Seven Pointed Star
by Chailyn Cole Runewood
Summary: Not Harry Potter at all, not even human, but some thing that his parents had been given when the fairies had taken the real Harry Potter away with them. And Neville, too— UNDER REWRITE
1. Chapter 1

**Seven Pointed Star**

Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: All characters, locations, and scenarios are the legal and intellectual property of the one who first created them. Therefore, Hogwarts, Harry Potter, Trelawney's prophecies, the war with Voldemort, and all other characters, locations, and scenarios from the Harry Potter series are the sole property of J. K. Rowling, with all rights and ownership as have been legally determined by her or those with the legal authority to act in her name. In other words, I don't own it.

**A Note on Fairie Names**: All sidhe names in this story, Seleighe and Unseleighe, are a single syllable. The only exceptions to this are the names of the Courts and the word "fairie," which is the human term for them. The old Gaelic (or Celtic?) name, sidhe (pronounced 'she'), is being used as their term for themselves.

* * *

A sixteen-year-old boy with messy black hair and shockingly green eyes sat on his bed in the Gryffindor Tower, his bed curtains opened and a book on his lap, carefully arranged to make the most of the moon- and wand-light that he was attempting to read it by. No longer small and scrawny, the slim young man still thought of himself as being short, but those who had known his father at school had no doubt that Harry Potter would be every bit as tall as James had been.

Professor Dumbledore had called Harry up to his office near the end of Transfiguration that day, offered him a lemon drop (which Harry had declined) and then handed the boy a thin, dragon hide-bound book, inconspicuously black with "Lily" printed in gold in the lower right-hand corner of the front cover. The sixth-year Gryffindor had looked at the book in confusion, looked up at the batty old Headmaster, and then opened the book. At the sight of Lily Potter's handwriting, he had gaped up at Professor Dumbledore, and there had been a decidedly satisfied twinkle in the old man's blue eyes.

"It's your mother's journal, Harry," the aged Headmaster said gently. "I haven't read any of it, Harry—it's all yours. I hope that this can help to answer some of the questions that I have not been able to." He smiled, twinkling merrily at the sixteen year old on the other side of his desk.

"If you had this, why didn't you give it to me earlier?" Harry demanded, anger rising. The old man had kept so much from him, from leaving him with the Dursleys to refusing to tell him the contents of the Prophecy. He kept it in check—barely—and hoped that this time the Headmaster might have some sort of explanation.

Dumbledore shook his head, that annoying twinkle lessening. "I didn't have it, Harry," the old man said softly, sounding hurt. "I found your mother's diary when I was going through Sirius's things; he named me to execute his will. I don't know why Sirius had it; perhaps he did not even know that he did. The important thing is that it has found its way to you now."

Though he wasn't entirely sure he believed the Headmaster, at least the old man was starting to make an effort to correct his mistakes, and on some level Harry had to respect that. He had nodded, taken the journal, and chatted with Dumbledore for a few moments before returning to class. After classes that day, he had opened the book, pouring over it, devouring the entries that told of his mother's life from the time she was eleven on. Despite the fact that he had never been one to spend hours with a book, he hadn't put down the journal since he had opened it. Now he was nearing the end, and he came across an entry that was different from the ones that he had read up to that point: this one was addressed to him.

_1 June 1980_

_James and I have been married for a year now. It's so hard to be happy about it when so many terrible things have happened; still, it's wonderful to know that we have each other. James's parents, my parents, Remus's … all dead in the last two weeks. It's almost as though Voldemort is taunting us. He can get to anyone, anywhere, and no one we care about is safe._

_Oh, little one, I'm so frightened. If for no other reason that you're ours and that we've gone against him so many times, Voldemort is going to want you dead. You'll be marked from birth, just like James and I are marked. We've defied Voldemort too many times for him to let anything of ours remain, your father and I._

_Know that I love you. Even now, when we're not even sure if you're a boy or a girl. James wants you to be a boy so that we can name you Harry, his father's middle name. If you're a girl, your middle name will be Deirdre, after his mother. I don't care if you're a Harry or a Rose. I picked that one; it's a tradition to name the girls in my family after flowers, as I've probably mentioned before. I love you, Harry James or Rose Deirdre. My little Potter. My little baby. We'll do everything we can to protect you. I only hope it's enough._

_I love you, baby._

_Your mum,_

_Lily_

Harry had to wipe tears from his eyes. He had always known his mother loved him, especially since discovering that her love had saved him, but he had no memory of her saying it. Now it was here, right in front of him. His mother loved him. Still blinking back tears, he read on.

_17 June 1980_

_Dumbledore just gave us the most horrible news. It's about you, little Harry or Rose. Well, only if you're a Harry. Some Seer named Sibyll Trelawney had a prophecy while Dumbledore was interviewing her for the Divination position. And if you're a boy, you fit the description. You and Frank and Alice's baby. They're naming him Neville, I think._

_"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not, and either must die at the hands of the other, for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month die."_

_Oh, my darling baby! Voldemort knows the first bit, that you or Neville is a danger to him. Dumbledore told all four of us, James and I as well as Frank and Alice, and told us we should go under a Fidelius Charm when the babies are born. Dumbledore is going to be the Longbottoms' Secret Keeper, but James wants Sirius to be ours. Sirius will do it; he's so loyal. He's going to be your godfather; he'd do anything to protect you._

_Oh, baby, I hope you're a girl—you have to be a girl. That's the only way you'll be safe from Voldemort. We can only keep you safe if you're a girl, if you can't be the one the prophecy is talking about. I hate to hope for it to be Frank and Alice's boy, but it can't be you. We can't loose you. You have to be a Rose._

_Mum_

Tears sprung to Harry's eyes, trying to escape as he squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his face into his hands. His mother had been so scared for him, and in the end it hadn't helped. She had wanted him to be a girl so he'd be safe—and then he'd been a boy. He gripped the edge of the book, forcing himself to continue, wrinkling the pages as he read.

_31 July 1980_

_You're a boy. You're a boy, and you were born today, on the last day of the seventh month. Born to those who have thrice defied him. Harry, my little Harry, I'm so scared for you! We're going into hiding, and James and Sirius decided to switch Secret Keepers at the last moment, from Sirius to Peter. I'm scared, but they're right; no one in their right mind would think we'd used Peter._

_I love you, Harry. We both love you. But I'm so scared for you. If only you'd been a girl, or you'd been born on a different day. I'm going to do everything in my power to protect you._

_Mum_

_14 August 1980_

_Oh, my baby, my little Harry! This is going to be my last entry, and now I'm not sure you'll ever see this. I've given you away to the only people who could find us, and perhaps the only ones who can truly protect you. They'll keep you safe, and train you so that you can defeat Voldemort if you're to be the savior of the wizarding world. I don't care about the world; I just want my baby! But at least you'll have a friend among them, another little one with you. Frank and Alice gave Neville to the fairies as well._

_The thing they've given us to take your place looks something like you, I suppose. If we get out of this all right and I get to see it grow up, it won't look the same. Like a Potter, they assured us. No one will suspect. But still, not my little one, not my Harry. I can hardly bear to look at it._

_The whole thing makes me sick. To have to give away our baby to the fairies and take a changeling in his place—no parent should have to do that. The fairies say that we'll forget soon that it's not Harry, and that the changeling will forget quickly, too, and stop screaming. But I don't want to forget. I want my Harry back._

_Lily_

That final entry was like a poisonous, hypnotic snake—he hadn't been able to look away, and it had bitten him. He felt sick, and he could hardly think. He was a changeling. A changeling, not Harry Potter at all, not even human, but some _thing_ that his parents had been given when the fairies had taken the real Harry Potter away with them. And Neville, too—

* * *

**Author's Note:** Well, it looks like I might actually be able to get back on my feet with _Seven Pointed Star_ now. This is so much better than it was before, and rewriting the first fourteen chapters should help me to get back into the groove, so to speak.

**Reposted 13 March 2007**


	2. Chapter 2

**Seven Pointed Star**

Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: All characters, locations, and scenarios are the legal and intellectual property of the one who first created them. Therefore, Hogwarts, Harry Potter, Trelawney's prophecies, the war with Voldemort, and all other characters, locations, and scenarios from the Harry Potter series are the sole property of J. K. Rowling, with all rights and ownership as have been legally determined by her or those with the legal authority to act in her name. In other words, I don't own it.

* * *

"Are you sure?" 

Neville's voice was strained; this was as hard on him as it had been on Harry. More so, perhaps, seeing as neither of his parents had left anything about it and he knew his family; knew his parents as much as he could. But at the same time, that also made things easier on him; Harry had a record of his mother—Harry's mother, really, but he still felt like Harry even if he really wasn't—calling him a thing, saying that she could hardly bear to look at him.

"I don't see why Mum—Lily—would write something like that in her diary if it wasn't true," Harry said stiffly. "Neville—" he looked up at the blond boy, his green eyes pleading. "What are we?"

"I don't know," Neville said, his voice trembling. "Changelings, I guess. Maybe we should ask Hermione about them."

Harry laughed hollowly. "What would we tell her? 'Oh, Dumbledore found Mum's journal and she says I'm a changeling. Neville, too. What can you tell us about them?'"

Neville winced. "Not like that. I'll say I ran across something about them in one of my books a while back and I've been meaning to ask her about them. Something about how they interact with a plant. She'll know if anyone does."

"Or she'll know where to look to find out," Harry agreed. "I guess … I guess we'll ask Hermione. Or you will, anyway."

* * *

"Oh, you mean Artemisia?" Hermione asked. "I read something about that, too. If you put a leaf of Southernwood in a changeling's mouth, the true child is supposed to be given back." 

"What happens to the changeling?" Neville asked nervously.

"I'm not sure. I don't think most people who have their children replaced like that really care what happens to the changeling so long as they get their baby back. Anyway, you were asking about changelings, not about Artemisia. They're fairie children, culls. Sometimes adult fairie criminals. The ones the fairies don't want. They switch them with human children, and they have the children work for them so they can spend their time playing."

* * *

"Culls or criminals?" 

"That's what she said. Of course, most children who are switched aren't taken to be trained to defeat a Dark Lord. Maybe they'll take us back when the real Harry and Neville come to fight Voldemort."

"Maybe." Neither boy looked particularly pleased by the prospect. "So we'll just … go back … pretend this never happened? Or will they want to keep Harry and Neville, and leave us here, knowing that we shouldn't be?"

"I don't know. Do you think—maybe—that we should see Dumbledore about this?"

Harry shrugged. "Maybe we should." He didn't move.

"Does he already know?"

"No. He didn't read the diary."

"But he might know what to do."

Harry sighed and stood up. "Let's go see him, then."

* * *

"Changelings? Are you sure?" 

Harry didn't answer; he simply put the dragon hide bound volume down in front of Dumbledore, opening it to the final entry. Dumbledore read it, his eyebrows seeking his hairline as he did so.

"I see. Yes, this does throw an interesting light on things. It makes me wonder about that curse scar, though. Your mother's love would have saved you, if you'd truly been human and needed saving. It had been over a year; she would have believed you were truly her son by then, even once knowing that you were a changeling."

"But it was her love for Harry, then. Not her love for me, whoever I am," Harry said bitterly. "Whatever I am."

"A fairie, no doubt. Only members of the Seleighe and Unseleighe Courts are given as change-children; the culls and criminals. Those whose blood is undesirable for continuing the large and thoroughly entangled royal houses. Though in both your cases," he looked over his half-moon spectacles at the unhappy boys before him, "it may be a different case entirely. Perhaps when this is over, they mean you to be ambassadors or have some special use for you for which they wanted you to have Wizarding training. Your cases are not normal at all; the parents were asked, and the Sidhe seem to have every intention of returning the boys they took from their cradles at the tender age of two weeks."

"Is there anything we can do? Any way that we can get things sorted out? I mean, the real Neville should be here, and go home for Christmas and Easter, and visit his parents. Not me."

Dumbledore stared impassively at the two boys for a long moment. "There is one way," he said when he finally broke the silence. "There is one way, but it could cause problems, since I do not know which Court the two of you are from. You could even be from different Courts, one Seleighe and one Unseleighe."

"What sort of problems?"

"I could be killed, you could be killed, we could all have our eyes gouged out or our hair fall out. Any number of uncomfortable situations. Still, I agree that things cannot be left as they are, and the Seleighe are generally benign … perhaps if I dealt with them first …"

Trailing off, Dumbledore stepped from behind his desk, moving over to the silver instruments. Among them he picked out a perfect sphere, silent and gathering cobwebs and long unused. Dumbledore brushed it off and spread his fingers over it, one hand on the top, the other on the bottom. With a curious half-clockwise jerk—though how it managed to be half-clockwise, Harry wasn't sure—Dumbledore opened the sphere. Inside, on a scarlet cushion, were two talismans. Both were small crystals on slender silver chains, the crystals secured by fine wire wrapped around them. One was clear; the other was a dark purple-black. Both were dull, the chains tarnished.

Dumbledore lifted the clear crystal by its chain and began chanting. Neville's eyes were caught by the crystal; when the tarnish burst from the chain and the crystal began to glow, Harry had to turn his head from the blinding light. Only then did he notice Neville's eyes: they were glowing with the same brilliant white light as the crystal. Shaken, Harry squinted into the light. It grew to fill the room—

And then, all at once, the light broke, shattering into countless pieces and then it was gone. In place of the light was the most beautiful woman that Harry had ever seen. She was not tall; in fact, her height was average, but she gave the impression of being tall. Slender, pale, glowing slightly, she had long white-gold hair and pale eyes. Her flimsy gossamer gown did not hide much, but rather seemed to accentuate her exceptionally sexual beauty. It took Harry a moment to notice that the crystal in Dumbledore's hand was still glowing, and the crystal drop dangling onto her forehead from a slender gold chain in her hair was glowing in response.

"Dumbledore," she purred, if a waterfall could be said to purr. Her voice was as exquisite as she was, as natural and musical as a waterfall with all the blatant sexuality of her appearance. "You are always so careful about calling us," she continued, and Harry was quite certain that 'us' was the royal we. "More so than some of the Headmasters of this school since its Founding. To what do we owe the honor of you using our time and the boon we gave to Godric Gryffindor all those many years ago?"

"Queen Elle," Dumbledore said with a bow. "I've come across some changeling children who seem to be a very odd case."

"An odd case?" she asked. "Let us see them. Perhaps they had sprouted tails or horns. The Unseleighe may keep such in their Court, but we put them from us. Of course, we must change out opinions … " she trailed off, turning to the boys. A delicate upswept eyebrow of fine spun white gold lifted as those silver eyes rested on Harry and Neville. "Yes, it seems that we must change our opinions very quickly indeed. Perhaps too long has passed already. The date, if you may, Dumbledore?"

"The twenty-sixth of October, the year nineteen hundred and ninety six. A Saturday."

"A little over due, then, but not much. Sixteen years, we keep children when training them. That time was over in August. Ah, but Midsummer had gone, and Midwinter not yet come, and perhaps this is the way things ought to have been. You have, as well, Mab's gift to Salazar?"

"Of course."

"Call her. She has an interest in this, as do we."

Dumbledore placed the crystal he was holding carefully around his neck, and then lifted the dark crystal from its resting place. Once more he began chanting, and this time it was Harry whose gaze was caught. The tarnish fell away, but the silver did not gleam; it instead glinted like a touch of light had reached it in the shadows. The light began, but the crystal seemed to grow darker, and darker still with Harry's eyes reflecting the unholy non-light eerily. The not-light then condensed, first into a shapeless cloud, then settling into the form of a woman.

She was as beautiful as Queen Elle, and as different as she could possibly be. Dark hair tumbled in thick curls around bare white shoulders, too light to be black and yet to dark to be brown. Her eyes were the same color, as was her rich low-cut gown. Like Queen Elle she was a creature of sex, but of a more subtle kind. Elle's attraction was obvious, Veela-like. This woman's was like a creeping poison. You could look at her, see that she was beautiful, even attractive, and move on not knowing that you wanted her, but in the end, wanting her would drive you mad. And, like Elle, she wore a crystal dangling on her forehead, this one answering the not-glow of the dark crystal Dumbledore slipped around his neck with the first.

"I hope you have a good reason for dragging me to this little tower of yours," the woman said, her voice flowing as smoothly as a river of honey and oil as she watched Dumbledore from beneath half-closed eyelids. "I was … otherwise engaged. There is not much that would require little Elle's attention as well as mine, so I must admit to some curiosity. Perhaps even enough to overcome my annoyance at being disturbed."

"Your younger sister insisted that I summon you as well, Queen Mab," Dumbledore replied. "She said that you would have an interest in the matter of a pair of changelings, as she does."

Queen Mab turned lazily to look at the boys. "My little sister is correct about my interests for once, but only because it is one which we developed together. The disguise placed on my Seif has held well, but I do believe it is overdue to be removed. Elle, you received the human children into your Court at Midsummer, did you not?"

"We did."

"Then why are they not here already? I am ready to have my Seif home again."

"You know that they must come home on their own," Queen Elle said. "Still, we are as eager to see our Fisk in his proper form as you are to see your Seif, so I will summon the boys." She snapped, and two boys appeared. There was no noise other than the snapping of her fingers, no flash of light or puff of smoke. The two boys were simply there and had not been a moment before. "This, Dumbledore, is Harry James Potter," she said, indicating the first boy, "and the other Neville Frank Longbottom."

Harry and Neville studied the boys; other than a superficial family resemblance, they didn't look that much alike. The real Harry was shorter with a thin, short, pointed nose and more of Lily in his face than James; all that was really the same was the hair and eyes. He didn't even have the famous lightening bolt scar. The real Neville was taller, still blond and blue eyed, but thinner and better muscled and obviously much more confidant.

"So this is what everyone thinks I look like," Neville said after a cursory glance at his replacement. "I can't say that I'll be sorry to correct them."

The false Neville choked. "Be good to Mum and Dad, all right? They're in St. Mungo's, you see. Permanently."

"And, well, I don't care much how you treat the Dursleys," the false Harry admitted. "Just don't kill them, all right? They're not much, but they're the only family you have. My—your godfather, Sirius, he died last June, and … " he trailed off, his throat too tight to continue and tears springing to his eyes. Clearing his throat, he continued, "Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, though, be good to them. They've taken care of me since I started Hogwarts, invited me to stay, treated me like one of their sons. They have six."

"This isn't goodbye for you, not quite yet," Queen Mab murmured, drawing the changeling Harry close to her and embracing him. "I can give you your body and power back, but I cannot return the memories. Those will come in time, and then you will come back to me on your own." She tilted his chin up and kissed him lightly on his forehead. When she moved her lips away, a crystal like the one she wore rested on his brow. It pulsed with non-light, the changeling spasmed once, and an ornate circlet of darkly glinting silver sprang up around the crystal. Then, all that had made him appear to be Harry was gone, and in his place was someone else entirely. "Seif, my son, come home to me soon."

With that, Queen Mab was gone. Seif—he still thought of himself as Harry, but that over there was Harry that Lily had been writing to in her journal—turned, looking for a mirror. He found one hanging in the corner and gasped at what he saw. He looked completely different … and he looked good. His hair was no longer black and messy, but the same color as Mab's with the same curl and somehow sensual tumble to it. Two small curled horns glinted black from his forehead, tucked up into the edge of that hair. His eyes were still green, but brighter, much brighter, and almost seemed to glow—except when he watched them too long, the not-light showed itself inside them. He was taller, better muscled; his body was strong and something that would obviously hold the same type of attraction for a female and some males that Mab did for most men and some women. The face and body in the mirror was one that women would remember, one that would haunt their dreams and secret thoughts. He smiled slowly at that thought, noticing that he had fangs as well: sharp and somehow as sensual as the rest of him. This was Prince Seif—and it was no one that Seif recognized.

Queen Elle trilled; to say she laughed would have been inaccurate. "The little Unseleighe Prince sees himself for the first time and is in danger of becoming Narcissus! Ah, but our Fisk, our Fisk will be the same." She clicked her tongue; even that was somehow musical. She turned to the changeling called Neville—Prince Fisk, Seif supposed—and placed her fingers on his forehead. His hair and eyes paled to the same silver and white gold of Queen Elle's. His skin turned translucent and gained the same glow. He grew thinner, taller, and much better looking until he looked very much like a male copy of Queen Elle. Last of all, a thin golden circlet appeared, and when the Seleighe Queen removed her fingers, it was centered on a glowing crystal. "We will await our son in the Seleighe Court." Then she was gone as well, leaving two fairie princes and two fairie-raised human boys for Dumbledore to deal with.

Dumbledore removed the crystals, replacing them in the sphere and closing it once more. "I think I will put all four of you in guest rooms tonight," he said when he had done so before he turned back to the boys. "Perhaps Harry and Neville can tell Seif and Fisk some things they do not know, and I am sure that Fisk and Seif can share some things with Harry and Neville that will be helpful. But that can wait until morning; tonight, it's time to sleep."

* * *

**Reposted 7 June 2007**


	3. Chapter 3

**Seven Pointed Star**

Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: All characters, locations, and scenarios are the legal and intellectual property of the one who first created them. Therefore, Hogwarts, Harry Potter, Trelawney's prophecies, the war with Voldemort, and all other characters, locations, and scenarios from the Harry Potter series are the sole property of J. K. Rowling, with all rights and ownership as have been legally determined by her or those with the legal authority to act in her name. In other words, I don't own it.

* * *

Harry, Neville, Seif, and Fisk sat around a table together in silence. They had eaten breakfast together on Dumbledore's orders and were supposed to be talking, specifically Seif with Harry and Neville with Fisk. None of them could think of anything to say to the others.

"Well," Seif said eventually, "I don't know how this is going to work out, but I guess that we'll keep going to classes—Fisk and I, I mean—and that you two will get Sorted and start taking them. There's nothing to say that you'll both be in Gryffindor, after all."

"You're a Gryffindor?" Harry asked incredulously. "Queen Mab was certain her son would be in Slytherin. She's never said straight out, but I think that she had something going on with Slytherin all those years ago."

"The Hat was going to put me in Slytherin," Seif said glumly. "Said I'd do well there. But I pulled Gryffindor's sword out of the Hat in my second year, and Dumbledore said that only a true Gryffindor could have done that. But I don't remember anything that would make me act like Mab's son, so it doesn't really matter much, does it?"

"I suppose not. So we're Sorted, we start building lives here, we defeat this Voldemort character—who's supposed to do that, anyway?"

"Er . . . well, everyone thought it was Harry—I mean, Seif—but his scar's gone—"

"It is?"

"Yeah. Last night, when Queen Mab made you look like that, the scar went."

"I didn't notice."

"Anyway, he was supposed to mark one of you two as his equal, and he never got the chance since you were already gone. So is it Seif, or Harry, or one of the two of us, or all four of us together, or a combination of two or three, or someone else entirely?"

"We'll figure it out later," Neville shrugged. "What was that about my parents being in St. Mungo's permanently? What's St. Mungo's, anyway?"

"Wizarding hospital," Fisk said. "They were tortured—driven mad—shortly after Harry's parents were killed by people looking for information on Voldemort's whereabouts."

"My parents are dead?"

"Fifteen years this Thursday," Seif said quietly. "Like I said, the Dursleys might not be much, but they're the only family you have. The Weasleys are absolutely wonderful."

Harry looked as though he's been struck and the boys lapsed into silence again. This time it lasted until Dumbledore returned. He had the Hat with him.

"Why so many long faces? I am sure that this is not what any of you expected, but certainly you can all find something good in the situation. I've brought the Sorting Hat so that Harry and Neville can be properly Sorted and join their classes tomorrow."

The boys exchanged looks, and Harry stood with a sigh. "Go ahead and Sort me first."

"Very good, Mr. Potter, if you could just put this on—"

Harry put it on. The Hat was silent for a long moment, and then it spoke, not shouting the House but instead saying it in a sort of resigned sigh. "Gryffindor."

Dumbledore nodded, removed the Hat from Harry's head, and turned to Neville. "Mr. Longbottom, if you please."

Neville sighed and took the Hat, placing it firmly on his head. The Hat did not take long to pronounce him, quite definitely, "Ravenclaw."

"Well, now that we have settled that matter, perhaps Fisk and Seif would like to show you two around and introduce you to a few people. I do believe there was a meeting of a certain Defense group scheduled for today."

Seif bit back a curse. "Dumbledore's Army! I'd forgotten."

"I thought you might have. I announced at breakfast today in brief the events of last night, just enough to lessen the shock of seeing you four. Go ahead and get to that charming Room, all four of you."

Seif shook his head, but stood and started off towards the Room of Requirement. Fisk followed a moment later, leaving Harry and Neville with Dumbledore. The boys glanced at Dumbledore, shared a look, and started after Seif and Fisk.

"Well, so it seems that my name's really Seif, and his is really Fisk, and that these two are really Harry and Neville," Seif finished lamely. The way that all the girls—all of them, even Hermione, with the sole exception of Luna who was simply watching in mild interest—were staring at Fisk and himself was rather disquieting. He had known last night, in an academic fashion, that he would have a strong effect on females, but it hadn't prepared him for this! It was almost more unsettling to see a few of the guys eyeing him covertly, and Zacharias Smith staring quite openly and quite specifically at him. He shifted uncomfortably, tugging at the collar of his robe. "Anyway, I don't have anything planned for today, what with everything happening so quickly, so I suppose we'll practice Patronuses again, make sure you haven't forgotten everything since last Easter . . .." It didn't help anything that Snape had been assigned to sponsor D.A. and so was sitting in the back, trying to pretend that he wasn't watching Seif with an expression much like Luna's. "Everyone remembers the incantation, right?" There were scattered nods. "What are you waiting for? Start practicing!" They started as though jolted by an electric shock and began practicing. Seif retreated slightly. "Nev—ah—Fisk, do you want to work on this, too? You were having some trouble last year, but you might be able to get it now . . .."

"I'll try it," Fisk said.

"Harry, Neville, do you want to try it?"

The boys glanced at each other again—they seemed to do a lot of that—and shrugged. "Sure."

Harry went into an explanation of how to produce a Patronus, and left Harry, Neville, and Fisk practicing—Fisk was doing much better, he even seemed to almost have it several times—and wandered off into a corner.

"I would not have suspected you to be Unseleighe," a low voice said from beside him. Seif jumped, turning to face Snape, who had come up beside him and was speaking to him without looking at him. "It should have been obvious, I suppose. I know one of Queen Mab's daughters—your half-sister, I suppose—and there is a certain similarity of character. If your life had been happier, perhaps you would have arrived at Hogwarts more like her. She, too, is reckless . . . honorable . . . exceptionally honorable, for a sidhe and more remarkably for a member of the Unseleighe Court. And beautiful; all sidhe are beautiful, and Kelle is no exception." His dark eyes gained a distant look, and he shook his head, turning to look at Seif. "Kelle is my mother," he said softly. "She put a glamour on herself to appear human and married my father. In the end she fled back to the Unseleighe Court, leaving me. A half-human child is a cull in either Court unless they prove to be exceptional; if she had taken me, it is likely that I would have been returned as a changeling."

Seif stared in shock, and it was several moments until he could speak carefully to the older man. "Why are you telling me this . . . sir?"

"Don't call me sir," Snape said softly. "It appears that I am your nephew—not that it matters among the sidhe. Outside of class I am Severus, I suppose, or Sers if you prefer." Seif gave him a questioning look, and he continued. "Sers is what my mother called me. My sidhe name, if you will. As for why . . . because I had a talk with Professor Dumbledore this summer, and was finally beginning to let myself see what your Occlumency lessons last year were shoving in my face. That's why I volunteered to sponsor this organization of yours. When the events of last night were explained to the staff, I determined that behaving towards you as I did was even more ridiculous than it already seemed."

"Let me get this straight. You want to start over fresh or something?" Seif asked incredulously.

"Something of the sort," Sers agreed.

"So I call you Sers and you call me Seif and we pretend the last five years never happened?"

"They happened, but they are a very short time for a sidhe, or even a half sidhe. Misunderstandings often last longer, and are forgotten more quickly. I am simply asking for a chance to correct my behavior."

"And you're half fairie? You don't look it."

"My mother placed a glamour on me," Sers said with a shrug. "My mother placed it there to protect me, and it has remained because none but Kelle or Mab herself can remove it. Half sidhe are easier to coerce than sidhe. And the Unseleighe are very attracted to the Dark Arts . . . they are more like their own deep, secret magic than Light magic is . . . for the Dark Arts in their very nature are a thing of the shadows, as the Unseleighe are."

"So the Unseleighe are Dark Creatures?"

"No, though some consider them to be. They are creatures of darkness, of shadow, yes. But they are not evil. Not as benign as the Seleighe, but not evil."

"So you're under a glamour?" Seif asked, turning off that track. He didn't want to examine the difference between darkness and evil at the moment, and Sers seemed to see one.

"Yes. Unless my mother or the Unseleighe Queen herself decides to remove it, it will remain, and I will not know what I truly look like." Sers twisted his lips into a sardonic smile. "Similar, I expect, but at the same time very different."

For a moment Seif had felt as though he has almost seen . . . someone . . . there, in place of the figure he had so long known as Severus Snape. Almost seen but not quite, and when he blinked the feeling disappeared.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I can't believe I forgot to update yesterday! Thank you to my reviewers! Review responses and other story news can be found at updates and responses(dot)blogspot(dot)com. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Seven Pointed Star**

Chapter 4

**Disclaimer**: All characters, locations, and scenarios are the legal and intellectual property of the one who first created them. Therefore, Hogwarts, Harry Potter, Trelawney's prophecies, the war with Voldemort, and all other characters, locations, and scenarios from the Harry Potter series are the sole property of J. K. Rowling, with all rights and ownership as have been legally determined by her or those with the legal authority to act in her name. In other words, I don't own it.

* * *

Harry woke up Monday morning in his bed in the Gryffindor dorm, certain that he had just had a very elaborate dream; then he looked in the mirror, and the face he was familiar with was not there. In its place was Seif, the Unseleighe Prince that he was slowly growing used to seeing in his mirror. Seif sighed, and glanced at the sixth bed in their dorm room, the one occupied by the real Harry Potter, the boy he'd been unwittingly masquerading as for the last sixteen years.

"Admiring yourself in the mirror again?" Harry asked, his voice every bit as superior as Draco Malfoy's ever was.

"Just getting used to it," Seif said, touching one of his horns experimentally. "It's odd, you know. You saw what I used to look like."

"I know what you mean," Fisk said, shaking his head in disbelief, his white gold locks falling perfectly when his head was still once more. "Hermione was staring at us yesterday. Hermione! When's the last time she got distracted by the way some guy looked?"

"Second year, Lockhart, and not for long," Seif said, running a hand experimentally through his dark curls. They looked tousled since he hadn't combed them yet, but they looked good. "It was kind of disturbing. Maybe even more disturbing than Zacharias."

"Saw him, too. He seemed rather intent on you."

"I know."

"What were you talking with Snape about?"

Seif blinked. "You noticed?"

"Everybody did. Especially the girls."

Seif snorted. "Luna was the only one of them who wasn't staring, wasn't she?"

"Yeah. She looked just like she always does. Well, Ginny seemed rather interested in the real Harry Potter, but she spent enough time looking at us all the same. Weird. Anyway, about Snape?"

"Apparently he's half fairie," Seif shrugged. "Unseleighe."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Weird."

Harry snorted in disgust, already in his uniform. "If you two are done chattering, we have classes to get to, and I don't know where any of them are. Or who these layabouts are, for that matter."

Seif turned to glance at the beds; Seamus, Ron, and Dean were all still sleeping. He glanced at his alarm clock. "We're up early. The others will be up in about five minutes. Except Ron; he'll be up about five minutes before time to go." He turned back to the mirror, fixed his hair so it suited him, and turned to his trunk to dress. As promised, Seamus and Dean were up five minutes later.

"So you're Harry Potter, really."

Harry nodded.

"I'm Dean Thomas."

"Seamus Finnigan. That lout's Ron Weasley." He kicked Ron's mattress; Ron grunted and rolled over. "He's been Harry's—Seif's—best friend since our first year. Him an Hermione Granger; you'll meet her at breakfast." Harry simply nodded, his face blank, leaning against the wall by the door and waiting for them to be ready to go. Five minutes after Ron was finally rolled out of bed, they headed down to breakfast.

"I'm Hermione Granger," she said briskly, carefully not looking at either fairie prince. She obviously remembered her performance the day before all too well and had no desire to embarrass herself further by repeating it. She talked to Harry for a bit—all she got from him were clipped sentences—and then turned carefully to Seif. "I'm sorry about yesterday; I wasn't ready for that."

"It's all right," Seif said, tugging uncomfortably at his collar. "No one was."

"I feel so silly, though; Luna didn't start drooling the moment you two walked in—"

"Luna is Luna," Seif pointed out. "She's always been a law unto herself."

Hermione laughed. "That almost makes me feel less like an idiot about it."

Their morning class was Potions, which Seif and Fisk both had, to the surprise and chagrin of the resident Potions Master. Sers was in Severus Snape mode, whisking around like a giant bat and snapping at his students. Neville and Harry had been given short placement tests the night before, placing them in the same classes as the changelings that had replaced them, though Neville was in the class opposite the Gryffindors with the other Ravenclaws. Snape hardly looked at Seif the whole time, only nodding briefly when he checked Seif's cauldron. He snapped at Harry, calling him lazy when he hadn't performed perfectly, but he took a grade on his potion none the less.

That afternoon Seif had Charms and Fisk had Astronomy; Flitwick had given Seif a conspiratorial wink as he passed on the way out of class. Seif had been confused, and Harry had rolled his eyes.

"He's part gnome. Not the garden gnomes, the real ones, the ones who are under sidhe rule."

"Oh."

"You should be able to tell; you are the Crown Prince of the Unseleighe, as people were so fond of reminding me in the Court."

"Crown Prince? But Queen Mab has other children."

"Undoubtedly."

"Why am I Crown Prince?"

Harry shrugged angrily. "How am I supposed to know? All I know is that you are, and that Fisk is Crown Prince of the Seleighe. If I never have to hear _her highness _Queen Elle go on about how 'we have put our sons, our heirs, in your places' and how Neville and I should be grateful it will be too soon. We're not the one's who asked to get taken to the Courts!"

Seif stared at Harry; the outburst was not something he'd expected. "Your mother loved you very much," he said quietly after a moment.

"Really? Then why'd she let them take me?" Harry asked acidly.

Seif turned away, not wanting to look at Harry. "To protect you. To keep you safe from Voldemort."

"How would you know?"

Seif swallowed, looking across the common room as they entered to the stairs to the boys dorm "Wait here a minute; there are some things I was given that should be yours."

Harry glared, but waited as Seif dashed up the stairs. Seif carefully took out the book Dumbledore had given him and the photo album Hagrid had given him at the end of his first year. Tears stung his eyes, but Harry needed them, needed them at least as much as Seif ever had. Holding the books close, he went back down the stairs and handed them to Harry without looking at the other boy. Harry took them, and Seif left, heading to the library. Maybe there he could hide from the girls as well as from Harry and his own feelings.

The library wasn't the solace that Seif had hoped it would be. He'd managed to evade most of the girls and dodged the isle of books down which he had seen Malfoy and Zacharias standing together, but there was nothing to distract him. Oh, there were books. But after handing over the two most precious books he'd ever held, they weren't much of a distraction. In the end he found a chair tucked into a shadowed corner near the Restricted Section and curled up miserably in it. Luna found him there and sat in the other chair in the area, reading her book.

"Sixteen years is a very short time for the sidhe," she said after a while.

"So they tell me."

Luna looked up from her book, turning her head to the side and looking at him with mild interest. "You look very different, Seif. But you're still the same person you were three days ago. Even when you remember all the time you've lived before, this will be a part of you."

Seif smiled slightly. "No one seems to think that."

"I know that. My father forgot everything for a month when my mother was still alive; the person he was during that month is still a part of him now that he remembers."

Seif smiled. "So I'm Seif, but I'm still Harry?"

"No. You were never Harry—everyone just called you that. But the boy we called Harry will always be part of you." She turned back to her book.

"Luna?"

"Yes, Seif?"

"Thank you."

"Your welcome, Seif. You may be the Crown Prince of the Unseleighe, but I am still your friend. That hasn't changed just because you look different."

Seif smiled and stood up, leaving Luna to her book as he went back to his dorm to retrieve his Firebolt. He felt like flying.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Hmm, I seem to have pretty well forgotten Ron in that chapter. Oh, well. I must admit that I've never really liked him as well as the others. He comes close to boring me, all things admitted. You probably won't see much of him; I hope you don't mind too much. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Seven Pointed Star**

Chapter 5

**Disclaimer**: All characters, locations, and scenarios are the legal and intellectual property of the one who first created them. Therefore, Hogwarts, Harry Potter, Trelawney's prophecies, the war with Voldemort, and all other characters, locations, and scenarios from the Harry Potter series are the sole property of J. K. Rowling, with all rights and ownership as have been legally determined by her or those with the legal authority to act in her name. In other words, I don't own it.

**Author's Note:** Wow. Just wow. Lmill123, you are amazing. This chapter goes out to you.

* * *

The weather was turning cold and most of the leaves had already fallen. The sun was hidden behind the clouds, and the six students had gathered under a willow by the edge of the lake. Three weeks had passed since Harry and Neville had become Fisk and Seif, and the group hadn't all been together in the same place since the D.A. meeting the day after that. Ginny was generally busy with schoolwork, seeing as she was in her fifth year and so preparing to take her O.W.L.s, and barely had time for Dean. What Seif couldn't understand was why Hermione and Ron kept disappearing. They'd situated themselves right beside each other, leaning on the tree and in slightly, letting the others fill in the circle around them.

"It's good to have a bit of free time," Ginny said happily as she flopped onto her stomach. "Dean has homework, and it's been too long since we've had any time together."

Luna laughed behind her copy of the _Quibbler_; tugging at a dangling bottlecap earring before settling more comfortably into the grass, twining a lock of her pale hair around her fingers.

"This whole mess is something I'd rather not be messed up in," Seif sighed. "Is the next meeting going to be that bad?"

"Of course not," Hermione said, coloring slightly behind _New Theory of Numerology_, which Seif had given her the year before. "At least some of the girls will have gotten over the shock of it."

"Yes, but will Zacharias have?" Ginny asked, giving Seif a teasing sideways glance. "Couldn't keep his eyes off you. Of course, rumor has it he has a boyfriend in Slytherin, so he'll need to learn to hide it a bit better at least."

Seif, who had been feeling rather embarrassed a moment before, choked. "Are you sure?"

"Not sure, no. Why?"

"I saw him in the library with Malfoy. They were standing awfully close together."

Everyone stared incredulously at him for a minute except for Luna, who was still absorbed in the _Quibbler_. Then Ginny burst out laughing, and the others followed. "Zacharias and _Malfoy_?" Ginny spluttered between giggles. "That's rich!"

When the laughter died down, Fisk spoke up. "I heard that Harry was going to try for Chaser. Wants to play Seeker, apparently, but Katie told him the position's taken."

Seif blinked. "I hadn't thought about that."

"Hadn't thought about what?"

"Quidditch. I mean, I'm good, but Harry probably has some talent, too."

"And we need one Chaser, since I've taken one spot," Ginny pointed out. "If he's as good as he should be, let him have it."

"He can try for Seeker if I do wind up back in the Unseleighe Court before we graduate," Seif agreed.

Ginny, Hermione, and Ron looked suddenly solemn. "I hadn't thought about that," Hermione said quietly. "As soon as you remember enough you'll be going back to your Courts, won't you."

"That's what Mother said."

"You've never called Queen Mab that before; maybe it's coming back already."

Seif shifted uncomfortably. "Maybe. There's no telling, is there?"

"Not until you know for sure," Luna's voice drifted from behind her magazine. "You never know."

Fisk glanced at her oddly. "You know something."

"Perhaps," Luna admitted. "Most people know something."

Fisk shook his head, glancing at his watch. "I should go; I promised to help Professor Sprout." He got up, brushed off his trousers absently, and wandered off in the direction of the greenhouses.

Ron glanced at Hermione. "You were going to help me with my Divination homework."

"I was?"

"You were."

"Oh! Oh, yes, I was." They got up and walked purposefully back towards the castle.

Ginny shifted uncomfortably. "Well, half of us are gone again."

"And you're not particularly comfortable around me," Seif observed with a sigh.

"It's not you, it's just . . . well . . . you're a little _too_ attractive, you know?"

"I understand."

Ginny smiled. "Thanks. I'll go see if Dean is done with his homework, then."

She left, and Seif was sitting under the willow alone with Luna. They were silent for a minute, and then Luna closed her magazine and looked into Seif's eyes.

"They're beautiful, but I can look away from them easily." Seif smiled; her large pale eyes were intent on his brilliant green ones as though she was trying to get caught in them. "Even when the darkness rises in them, they don't hold me. The other girls say your eyes trap them, that it's dangerous to look into them for long. I'm not trapped."

"I've noticed that people get trapped in them, too, especially people who are . . . attracted. I try to look away before they get caught."

Luna smiled her eyes lifting from his to rest on his horns as she reached out to touch one. "They don't trap me. These are quite nice."

"My horns?"

Luna nodded, looking back into his eyes. "Does it bother you?"

"What?"

"That I don't find you as captivating as the other girls do. That I can look at you and talk to you like a normal person. That I don't get caught in your eyes."

"No," Seif said honestly. "I like it. It's refreshing, to have someone who can just talk to me." He got a brief feeling of a double image without actually seeing one, as he had with Sers, but brushed it off. He hadn't slept well the night before; his eyes were tired. He didn't need glasses anymore, but that didn't mean that his eyes didn't get tired. "I'd prefer it if you stayed this way, didn't get caught."

"A friend, then. Not someone who looks at you and can't help seeing you as a potential lover. A female friend, one like Hermione used to be, except still herself."

Seif nodded. "Something like that."

"Then we will just be friends."

"Was Fisk right? Do you know something about all this?"

Luna tilted her head to the side slightly. "Something, yes, but perhaps it is nothing. Neville talks to himself when he thinks no one is near enough to hear. People overlook me. I've been sat on before because someone didn't see me."

"So you've heard something?"

"Many things, though most are not interesting. He is in love, you see, and misses her, but he never says who she is. I think she is a human, another child taken from their parents. He speaks of her often, speaks as though to her sometimes. But what is interesting is the plans he mentions for you, and for Fisk."

"Whose plans?"

"Your mother's plans, and Queen Elle's. They plan to reunite the sidhe, to bring the Seleighe and Unseleighe together again and have one Court once more. There father used to rule such a Court, but they could not rule together."

"So Fisk and I are supposed to?"

"For a time. You are to marry a Seleighe maid and Fisk is to wed one of the Unseleighe, and a child of yours will be wed to a child of his, and their child shall rule the Sidhe Court, darkness and light dancing together once more." She smiled, her eyes dancing merrily. "Quite a pretty picture he paints. He believes their plan will work. You get along with Fisk so well—if only you can pick good Queens."

Seif swallowed nervously. "So I at least get to pick my bride?"

Luna nodded. "A pretty Seleighe maid, one to sit by your side and rule along side you, and along side Fisk and his bride."

"What if I fall in love with an Unseleighe woman?"

Luna shrugged. "Then your mother's plan has failed, and the great Queen Mab must try again. She has many children; you were simply her first choice. Perhaps one of her daughters can marry Fisk, and then there is just one generation to wait for the ruler of all the sidhe."

"What about Mother, and Queen Elle? What will they do?"

"What their father did; step down from their thrones and join the rest of the Court. Their time is nearing its end; perhaps another hundred years, Neville says when no one is listening. But I listen, I hear."

"Thank you, Luna."

A week after the day by the lake, snow began falling and kept falling for a week. The last day of November, the day that students going home for Christmas were leaving on the Hogwarts Express, was the first sunny day since the beginning of that first snow. For the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, Harry was going to spend Christmas alone.

Not completely alone; there were always a few people who stayed behind. But the Weasleys were going home, and Seif had declined their invitation to come spend Christmas with them. Neville and Fisk were both going to the Longbottoms, and so Harry and Seif would be alone in the dorm for the break, and quite possibly alone in the Tower. Luna had told Seif that she was staying, and that made him happy, perhaps happier than it should have. He didn't spend much time examining his feelings, though—even if he was attracted to Luna, nothing would come of it. They'd just be friends. Luna would be with him on Christmas, but it wasn't the same. There would be no one else in the common room, no one except Harry Potter, and Harry hadn't spoken to Seif since the day he had been handed the two books that were the only keys to his past, to knowing his parents.

Christmas came, and Seif found a heap of presents at the foot of his bed like he had never received before. There was one from Mrs. Weasley, of course, from Ron, from Hermione, from Ginny, from Fred and George, oddly one from both Remus and Tonks, some from other members of the Order, a few from members of Dumbledore's Army. The majority of the presents, however, were from girls he didn't know, and once he pushed all of those off to the side. He didn't want their presents, and chances were he didn't need them.

He almost missed the small parcel on the bottom of the pile. Wrapped in the darkest paper he had ever seen and tied with a glinting silver thread, the tiny parcel had no tag on the outside. Still, Seif was sure that he knew who it was from.

"Is that normal?"

"What?" Seif asked, wrenching his head from the package at the sound of Harry's voice. Harry nodded at the pile of presents from Seif's admirers. "No, I usually only get things from my friends, that's never happened before." Harry turned back to his few presents—his pile looked much like Seif's always had—and Seif turned back to the present in his hand.

The present from his mother.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Please do not review asking me to continue. I have twelve chapters and the epilogue completed, and am working on chapter thirteen. For review responses and update news, go to **updatesandresponses (dot) blogspot (dot) com**


	6. Chapter 6

**Seven Pointed Star**

Chapter 6

**Disclaimer**: All characters, locations, and scenarios are the legal and intellectual property of the one who first created them. Therefore, Hogwarts, Harry Potter, Trelawney's prophecies, the war with Voldemort, and all other characters, locations, and scenarios from the Harry Potter series are the sole property of J. K. Rowling, with all rights and ownership as have been legally determined by her or those with the legal authority to act in her name. In other words, I don't own it.

* * *

The dark wrappings of the gift were finer than anything Seif could remember touching, thin and light and yet still completely opaque. Something tugged at his memory, something that said that his wasn't ordinary fabric at all, but the finest spider silk . . .. Seif brushed the thought aside as he laid the wrapping and the fine silver thread carefully on his bed along side the contents of the other packages he'd opened. Inside, folded very small, was a cloak of the same fabric died an unearthly color too dark to be called simply black. He laid it out in front of him, picking up the note that had been folded into the middle as Harry snorted scornfully. 

"An Invisibility Cloak?"

"It was your father's," Seif said quietly, his voice tense. "I had no right to keep it, and I thought that you might like to have something of his. If you're careful, you can get around undetected. Especially if you use the Marauder's Map."

Harry didn't reply, and Seif returned his attention to his mother's note. It was written on simple parchment in a thin, sketchy hand that was still somehow elegant.

_Seif,_

_Perhaps this will help you to remember your home. It is a Cloak of Shadows. Spun from spider silk, which is practically weightless and nearly indestructible, it is a treasure that only a few of my children own. I have heard of the Invisibility Cloaks the wizards spin. A Cloak of Shadows has a similar purpose, but is more of a treasure and more of a rarity than these Invisibility Cloaks._

_Completely indestructible, not even fire will harm a Cloak of Shadows or the one wearing it. It repels harmful magic while allowing benign spells to penetrate it. It hides you if you wish to be hidden, and appears to be simply a fine black cloak, nothing out of the ordinary, to all buts its owner._

_Use it well, my son._

_Mab_

Seif touched the fabric, feeling it as it slid between his fingers. It had a better feel to it than even the fluid fabric of the Invisibility Cloak, finer and lighter than silk. Standing, Seif swung the cloak over his shoulders, fastening the silver and crystal clasp at his neck, both silver and crystal matching that of his circlet. It was a curious design, one Seif wasn't familiar with, a silver star with seven narrow points that fit neatly into a crystal disk. It tugged at his memory as the spider silk wrapping had, but he couldn't place it. Shrugging slightly, he picked up Luna's gift and the small square of dark spider silk and went down to meet Luna in the library.

"Spider silk?" Luna asked, her eyes sparkling with interest.

"Mother wrapped my gift in it," Seif said, smiling as he watched her feel the half foot square of fabric.

"It's like nothing I've ever felt before." Folding it diagonally, it was just long enough for her to use it to tie back her hair. "I wish there was some way to get something made completely of it."

"I'll give you something made of spider silk when I return to the Court," Seif found himself promising.

Luna smiled, opening his present for her. She stared for a moment at the book, then looked up at Seif, her large pale eyes holding all the thanks he needed. "How did you know that I wanted _Utopia_?"

"I listen," Seif said simply. "You mentioned once that your mother got it from the Muggle library when you were a child, and that she'd read some of it to you."

Luna hugged him, and Seif felt his breath catch. There was no way that she meant the gesture as anything but friendly, but Seif suddenly found that he wanted very much for it to be something more. It confused him; just over a month ago they had agreed to be friends and friends only, and he had his pick of the girls in the school and some of the boys if he wanted someone. Why did he seem to be falling for her, for the one person with whom he'd decided he liked things the way they were? "Open mine now," she said, still smiling innocently, unaware that Seif had just realized that he was well on his way to falling in love with her. He couldn't fall for her—he was supposed to marry a Seleighe woman—

Her package was small and oddly lumpy, for inside the paper was a dark silver wire necklace with a perfect round drop of deep purple in the center of it. He looked into the heart of the drop and found a perfect rainbow arching through it, a rainbow that was there and at the same time not there at all.

"It's a dragon's tear," Luna said as he stared into it. "They're supposed to bring luck to those who wear them, and you seem to need luck."

Seif smiled at her, a dazzling flash of his fangs that sent all too many of the girls at Hogwarts swooning. "It's perfect." He fastened the necklace around his neck; the dragon's tear fit perfectly in the hollow of his throat, the wire settling smoothly around his neck and echoing the pattern of his circlet. "Thank you." Luna's answering smile was every bit as dazzling as his was.

There were few enough people who had stayed at Hogwarts this Christmas that Dumbledore had once more gotten rid of the House tables and was seating everyone at the same table. Harry and Seif were the only Gryffindors left, and Luna was the only Ravenclaw. Two first year Hufflepuffs, identical twin girls, had also remained, as had a seventh year Slytherin boy. The six students joined Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Hagrid, and Kirk, and the House Elves outdid themselves with the spread. Professor Kirk, a competent young woman who had completed two of the three years of Auror training before suddenly deciding she wanted to teach, was talking rapidly at Hagrid. McGonagall and Dumbledore were arguing some point of Muggle literature. The twins were giggling and kept eyeing Seif in what they obviously thought was a covert manner, but which was in reality painfully obvious. The Slytherin boy kept to himself, as did Harry, leaving Seif, Sers, and Luna to talk amongst themselves.

"It's really quite simple," Luna was explaining to Seif. "Whether or not he knew that Umbridge had set the dementors on you, now that exactly what happened has come to light, Fudge knows his political career is over. Either he's incompetent or purposely endangered the Boy Who Lived if he gets booted from his place as Minister of Magic. That's why he's resigning. This way he can save face some by saying that he made a very bad decision by putting Umbridge in the position of power that he did, and that he hopes in his new position—I hear he's replacing Mr. Weasley in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department, and Mr. Weasley's moving to Magical Transportation—he can make better decisions in the people he places in positions of authority. Not that it's hard; the entire Department consists of two people." She seemed very satisfied by Fudge's fate, and Seif couldn't blame her.

"So who's the new Minister of Magic?"

"They'll have an election next month; Amos Diggory is filling in until then," Sers said without looking away from his meal. "That's why the position in the Department of Magical Transportation was opened for Arthur. Amos said he felt it was time for a career change. He'll be taking over the Department of Magical Games and Sports after the election. Presuming, of course, that he isn't the one elected."

"I see."

"Politicians are the same whether they have magic or not. It's just that since the Ministry of Magic is secret, the highest position is Minister of Magic rather than Prime Minister."

"So anyone could be elected?"

"Anyone who's old enough and willing to accept the nomination."

The conversation continued on that thread for a while before turning to other topics, and the night wore on without Snape rearing his ugly head once.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thank you for reviewing! I got some very nice ones. I almost wonder where the people telling me I'm doing awful have gone. This is the best of my fics so far--and, as follows, the best-recieved. Thank you all! Review responses can be found at http (/) updates and responses (dot) blogspot (dot) com


	7. Chapter 7

**Seven Pointed Star**

Chapter 7

**Disclaimer**: All characters, locations, and scenarios are the legal and intellectual property of the one who first created them. Therefore, Hogwarts, Harry Potter, Trelawney's prophecies, the war with Voldemort, and all other characters, locations, and scenarios from the Harry Potter series are the sole property of J. K. Rowling, with all rights and ownership as have been legally determined by her or those with the legal authority to act in her name. In other words, I don't own it.

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On the second Sunday in January, the students who had gone home for Christmas returned. Seif met his friends as they entered the castle, standing off to the side with Luna as the general throng passed by.

"Seif!" Hermione squealed, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him enthusiastically. "We missed you." Then her eyes caught a glint at his throat, and she touched Luna's gift tentatively. "Is that a dragon's tear?"

Seif nodded. "I hear they're supposed to bring luck."

"I suppose you could put it that way. They're one of the most powerful natural protective charms in existence. They're very rare and _very_ expensive."

"Are they?" Seif asked. Luna was twirling a lock of pale hair around her fingers and not looking at him. "I'll have to remember to thank the person who gave this to me again."

"Miss me?" Ginny asked, distracting Seif from Hermione.

"Of course I did. I had a very nice Christmas anyway."

"Oh, now I feel _so_ special," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "Oh, and I broke up with Dean."

Seif was a little taken aback by that. "You did? When?"

"On the way back to the station. We never see each other any more. He seemed almost relieved, really. Like he knew it was over but hadn't wanted to say anything if I didn't."

"Oh. How did Ron take that?"

Ginny rolled her eyes again, eyeing her brother, who was chatting animatedly with Seamus about Quidditch. "He was gloating about it. I think he's determined to have us together. Not much of a chance there, is there?"

"Not really," Seif said gently.

"I have never spent such a solemn Midwinter in all my life," Neville sighed as he spotted Seif. "It'll take some getting used to. The whole family." He looked a little troubled. "They took me to see my parents. They didn't recognize me."

"I don't think it's ever been easy for Fisk to see them," Seif said softly, watching Fisk mount the stairs. The other sidhe was abnormally subdued. "I think this time might have been even harder for him."

Neville glanced at Fisk and nodded. "I wish this whole thing wasn't this hard on the four of us. Harry's taking it worst of all. He was expecting to get to meet his parents, and comes back to find that not only are they dead, but so is his godfather and the only family he has wants nothing to do with him."

Seif smiled thinly. "It hasn't been easy. I suppose getting hit with it all at once and being expected to just move on . . .."

"A little daunting. He doesn't want your sympathy, because to know that there is someone else who knows what he's going through, that's been through worse, is even harder on him. He's heard people talk about what you've done with his life. I think he's scared."

"That's the whole problem, isn't it? People think of what I've done as his life, expect him to fill my shoes. I'm never even sure that _I_ can do that, why should he be expected to? He's not me. That's the whole point, isn't it?"

Neville nodded. "I think it is. He's not this Boy Who Lived. He's never done anything spectacular in his life. They never really compared Harry and I, but we've always been pretty evenly matched. Now . . . " he trailed off.

"He needs to show that he's not me, and do so dramatically," Seif suggested, "but he doesn't feel like he can."

Neville nodded. "I think that's it exactly."

"Are you sure that werewolves have tufted tails?" Luna asked, a delicate eyebrow arched at the list of the five points of distinction between werewolves and ordinary wolves that Seif had written up for her.

"Very sure; I've seen one before."

"Ah, Professor Lupin. I heard rumors he ran free the full moon before he resigned." Her eyes were sparkling as they did when she found a topic particularly interesting. "A pity he left; he was one of the best Defense teachers we've had. At least Professor Kirk is competent; that's more than could be said for Professor Umbridge."

"There are some very unflattering descriptions that are more than can be said for Umbridge."

"That's true," Luna laughed, tucking the list in with her notes. "Thank you."

"Thank you, Luna," Seif said quietly, touching the dragon tear at his throat and looking intently into Luna's eyes. Since he was sitting beside her at the table, their faces were quite close together. "I still can't believe that's you'd get me something so . . . perfect."

Luna blushed faintly. "I was with you in the Department of Mysteries. I know what you do for the Wizarding World, even if no one else seems to want to admit it. You deserve it." She turned her head away, and Seif couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed as the spell of her nearness disappeared back into companionable study. At the same time, he was relieved; he thought he might have kissed her if she hadn't looked away, and that would have spoiled everything. "I know you studied dementors over the summer, and I have a question. If dementors feed on happiness, then why does the Patronus repel them? Wouldn't it attract them?"

"They don't exactly feed on happiness," Seif explained, settling himself back into his chair and leaning in towards Luna to look at her notes. She smelled good, though it wasn't something that Seif could place, and he had to shake himself slightly to keep from being distracted by it. "They feed on despair. They suck the happiness out of you, but that's not what they feed on. It's the negative memories and feelings that they trap you in."

"So if you could block those negative emotions they'd—what—shrivel up and die?" Luna asked incredulously. "That sounds like what you're suggesting, and it doesn't make any sense."

Seif laughed, surprised by the suggestion. "It might sound like that, but that's not how it works. No one, not even a master at Occlumency, could keep those negative emotions from surfacing. If you can't hold a happy thought and produce a Patronus to protect you, they will drain the positive thoughts and emotions from you. The mind does not like being blank; that's why the Imperious Curse works, why the blank and blissful state it throws your mind into leaves you open to suggestion. The Dementors use that. Once they've removed the happiness, the thoughts and memories connected to negative emotion surface naturally to fill the void. But the mind doesn't like being filled with negative emotion, either. It suppresses it. When one is around dementors for an extended period of time, the prolonged submersion in negative emotion drives them mad."

"Except Sirius was sane," Luna pointed out. "Saner than one trapped in those conditions for twelve years has any right or desire to be."

Seif looked away, stung at the reminder of Sirius. "He explained that to me," he said shortly. "He had something else to concentrate on, an obsession to take the place of the negative emotion. He was innocent, he knew it, and it wasn't a happy thought, so he could hold onto it." He cleared his throat, standing up. "I have homework to do."

"You didn't answer my original question," Luna observed. "Why does the Patronus work against the dementors?"

"Because they can't get past that much happiness. Maybe someone who was perfectly happy wouldn't need one." His eyes rested on her for perhaps a moment longer than they should have, and then he was gone.

"_Are you sure you have to go, Seif?"_

_Seif ran a hand through the rich golden curls of the woman lying beside him, caught in her brilliant sapphire eyes in a way that had nothing to do with the way that mortals would be trapped by them and yet was exactly the same. "I'm going because I love you, Xanthe," he said softly, the non-light in his eyes matching the glow within the depths of hers. "If this plot of Mother's works, then we can be together forever. We won't have to hide any more." He slid an arm around her, pulling her closer, and she rested her translucent cheek against his white marble chest. "It's only for sixteen years. I'll be back before you know it."_

"_Only sixteen years, you say, like it's the blink of an eye," she said in obvious distress. "That sort of time may pass without noticing, but I'll feel every moment that you're gone. Sixteen years in which you don't remember who you are, in which you'll have forgotten me completely, in which you'll think you're human an might fall in love with some human girl—" she broke off, closing her eyes, hiding those precious sapphires behind long dark lashes and silvered lids._

_Holding her protectively, Seif kissed her gently between her slender, upswept eyebrows. "I'll come back to you, Xanthe. I may not remember you while I'm living as a mortal, but you know that nothing will keep me from you in the end. I love you."_

"_I love you," she murmured against his chest—_

Seif woke with a start, trying to shake the disturbing feeling that there should be someone lying beside him, another body pressed against his. He sat up in bed, swinging his legs over the side and pressing his face into his hands. He'd been dreaming, that was all, however real the dream had felt. It was slipping fast enough that already he could only remember that the dream had felt _right_, somehow, as if it was something that he should be able to hold onto. He could almost see the face of a woman, beautiful with dazzling blue eyes and a tousled cascade of spun-gold curls—but she was gone, lost into the recesses of his subconscious mind.

It was almost time to get up for breakfast, anyway, and so Seif got out of bed and tread lightly over to his trunk to get dressed, still thinking about his dream. It had felt like the visions he'd used to receive from Voldemort, but at the same time more natural, as though it was supposed to be there. But he couldn't remember it, not quite, just like he would almost get a double image of Sers at times but have the second image just escape him. By the time the rest of the boys got up, Seif had already gone down to breakfast.

"I will be pairing you up for class today based on skill," Professor Sprout said as she faced her class. "We're working with Silver Gardenias today, and I don't want anything happening because someone is overconfident. Fisk, if you would work with Mr. Malfoy . . . " she continued pairing them putting exceptional students with ones who had just barely managed to scrape through into the N.E.W.T. level course. When that was done, she began pairing the mid-range students. Seif waited patiently, and finally she called him. "Seif, if you can pair with Mr. Potter, there's a good lad," and she went on, not even seeming to have noticed Harry's stricken look.

Seif sighed, but swung his bag over his shoulder and walked over to Harry, sitting down beside him. Harry wouldn't even look at Seif, and after a moment Seif broke the silence. "If you don't stop avoiding me I might think you're attracted to me."

"I've lived with the sidhe most of my life," Harry scoffed. "As long as I'm not stupid enough to get caught in their gaze, I don't have a problem."

"But you are avoiding me."

"I don't see why I shouldn't."

"t's not as though I expect you to live up to the expectations everyone heaped on me."

"You did."

Seif snorted divisively. "Barely. By the skin of my teeth, most of the time. It was either Lily's love for you or my fairie blood that saved me from Voldemort when he tried to kill me, and it's been pure dumb luck that's kept me alive since then. You seem to be a good match for me in the knowledge and power I've had access to, and there's nothing either of us can do about the luck."

"So you're saying that you think I could have done any of it."

"With the same luck," Seif said with a shrug as he took a sheet of instructions from the stack that was being passed around. "This looks easy enough. Don't get squirted by the juice from one of those little silver berries while pruning and prune it right." He handed one of the pairs of pruning sheers on the tray to Harry, then took the other and made a careful diagonal cut, removing a weak branch. They worked in silence for a while before Harry broke it.

"You know Ginny Weasley."

It wasn't a question, but he was obviously waiting for a reply. "Yes, I do."

Harry was silent for another long moment. "Was there ever anything . . . going on . . . between the two of you?"

"No," Seif said firmly, avoiding the juice of one of their Silver Geranium's berries as it squirted when he moved a branch. Seeing that Harry wasn't satisfied with his answer, he elaborated on it. "She had a crush on me—no, not on me, on the Boy Who Lived—when she was younger, and had a sort of hero worship thing going on after I saved her from Tom Riddle's memory and a Basilisk in her first year. But nothing ever happened, and she got over . . . must be at least a year and a half ago now. Then we became friends. That's it. Why?" Harry was staring too intently at the Silver Geranium to not be hiding something. Seif wondered—then remembered the glances he'd caught Harry and Ginny throwing each other when the other wasn't looking. "You like her."

Harry winced. "So what if I do?"

"Exactly. She's my friend. That's all. Ron might object, but he doesn't even like the idea of Ginny dating."

Harry went quiet again for quite some time. "Does she see me as Harry, or as the Boy Who Lived?" he asked quietly. "I'm not, you know. I'm just Harry, and I don't know if that's enough."

"I was just Harry for a long time," Seif said. "Ginny's realizes that we're two different people. Besides, she got past seeing the Boy Who Lived a long time ago."

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**Author's Note:** Well, thank you again for my lovely reviews. As always, the responses are at updatesandresponses(dot)blogspot(dot)com 


	8. Chapter 8

**Seven Pointed Star**

Chapter 8

**Disclaimer**: All characters, locations, and scenarios are the legal and intellectual property of the one who first created them. Therefore, Hogwarts, Harry Potter, Trelawney's prophecies, the war with Voldemort, and all other characters, locations, and scenarios from the Harry Potter series are the sole property of J. K. Rowling, with all rights and ownership as have been legally determined by her or those with the legal authority to act in her name. In other words, I don't own it.

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As March arrived, the snow that had covered the ground since mid November started to melt, making the trek out to Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology absolutely miserable. The new Minister of Magic, Amelia Bones, was well established and often came out to Hogwarts to have tea with Dumbledore. Harry and Ginny had recently gotten together, and Ron had taken to glaring at Harry in the dorm room until Ginny pointed out that Ron wanted her to be with Harry Potter, to which Ron had responded by spluttering in confusion. The glares had stopped, replaced by bemused looks from Harry to Seif and back again. Whispers of Voldemort reached Seif, but nothing solid; it seemed that he had gone into hiding after the events in the Department of Mysteries the previous summer. The Quidditch finals were drawing near—Gryffindor was the current favorite to win. Except for the stares Seif and Fisk still received and the presence of Harry and Neville among the students, life at Hogwarts preceded as it always had.

Hogwarts might be moving on from the discovery of a pair of changelings in their midst, but Seif was being plagued more and more frequently by too-real dreams that he couldn't quite remember. They always woke him, always made him restless, always made him feel as though he should be able to remember them, but always slipped out of his grasp. They were frustrating, almost as frustrating as Luna's behavior—she kept seeking him out to study with her, for her O.W.L.s she claimed, but he couldn't understand why she kept coming to him, she was a Ravenclaw and so couldn't need that much help. She didn't know, couldn't know, that every moment he spent in her presence was coming to be torture, that he was undeniably falling in love with her while she still saw him as nothing but a friend. He couldn't figure out what she was trying to do, and didn't dare hope that she might be falling for him as well. Still, today they were working on History of Magic, and she definitely knew more about the subject than he did, whatever she pretended.

"So, last year they asked us about the International Confederation of Wizards—Dumbledore's the Supreme Mugwump now, isn't he? Anyway, they asked about the formation of it, and the appointment of . . . ah . . . Pierre someone, I think—"

"Bonaccord," supplied Luna without thinking.

Seif looked at his notes; yes, that was the last name, but Luna had been looking at him. "If you know, why do you want me to help you study?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know everything," Luna laughed; she sounded a little nervous. "Besides, this helps even when I know the answers already."

He didn't quite believe her, but there was nothing wrong with what she'd said. "Anyway, he was appointed Supreme Mugwump," he continued, "but Liechtenstein contested it because . . . ah . . . trolls, wasn't it?" Luna nodded and Seif went on. "They were having a problem with Mountain Trolls and Bonaccord wanted to stop hunting them and give them rights, I think that's it."

"We could move on to Charms, if you like," Luna suggested. "I've heard that the Charms exam was very easy; is that true?"

"It's not that hard," Seif confirmed. "Levitation, color-changing, that sort of thing for the practical. The written exam has everything from the basic flying charm to Cheering Charms."

"Cheering Charms?" Luna asked. "Perhaps we could go over that, I never can keep them all straight."

That set off several alarms in Seif's brain; Luna was easily as smart as Hermione, just quieter, there was no way she's mix up her Cheering Charms. "Yes, you can," he said slowly. "Down to the counter charm for hiccups, I expect." She wasn't looking at him now; she was definitely hiding something from him, and Seif wasn't in the mood to have things kept from him. He turned her face gently towards his with a hand under her chin. She didn't resist, she just stared into his eyes with those huge pale blue pools. "What's this really about? Defense I can understand, maybe, but you know most of this better than me." His thumb was rubbing her lower lip softly. He knew he shouldn't be touching her, shouldn't be looking at her like this, but he couldn't seem to move his hand away from her face. She was so very beautiful and he didn't know why it had taken him as long as it had to notice. He should have seen it the moment he met her.

"You've been through the exams," Luna said weakly. "And . . . " she trailed off, dropping her eyes to look away from his without disturbing his touch.

"Yes?"

Her eyes snapped back up and Seif was caught—he couldn't seem to breathe— "I promised you I wouldn't," she whispered, and Seif's heart seized in his chest. There was only one thing Luna had promised him not to do. His hand still on her chin, Seif brushed Luna's pale hair out of her face. His face was lowering itself towards hers, and he couldn't have stopped if he wanted to—those big pale eyes were all he could see, they had him trapped as surely as he had ever accidentally caught someone in his gaze—the pale lashes fluttered and came to rest oh her cheeks—Seif closed his eyes—their lips met.

A jolt of energy exploded from the point of contact, followed by an immediate flash of light and magic that Seif felt rather than saw. It hurt like silence being broken by an explosion as the enchantment shattered, its fragments scattering, catching, and bursting into brief flashes of light and energy as they dissipated. The glamour was broken and swept away, the power unchained, the splinters of memory snapped back together in a moment instead of slowly, all in the time it took Seif and Luna to jerk apart from the initial shock.

Luna was reeling and had to catch herself on the edge of the table, for even sitting she was in danger of falling over—but she wasn't Luna, not any more. Her hair was darker, a deep, rich gold, falling in perfect curls around her shoulders. Her frame, though slender, was perfectly shaped. Her skin was white, translucent, so that she seemed to glow faintly. Her eyes were no longer pale, but the most brilliant sapphire he had ever seen, as brilliant as his own emerald eyes, and as he stared into them he caught a light deep within them, a light like the darkness that resided in his own eyes. When Seif did not immediately recognize her, he saw pain start to creep into those eyes, and a flash one of his dreams, those too real dreams, came back to him.

_A Seleighe woman, beautiful and golden haired, who had come with Queen Elle to visit Mother and caught his interest. He bowed over her hand as she curtsied, just as he had all the others, but he remembered the name the little changeling lad said when she was announced._

"Xanthe," he breathed as the memories he dreamed spilled into his mind, just fragments, not all together yet. Those eyes, those precious sapphires, lit up. "I told you nothing could keep me from you."

"You remember me," she whispered, smiling up at him in wonder. "You remember."

"Some. Not everything, not yet. But I remember that I love you," Seif murmured, pulling her close. "I remember that now, Xanthe, and I will never forget it again." Xanthe laughed, tears of joy welling up in her eyes as she held Seif as close as he held her, tilting her face up towards his as he kissed her again and started to rediscover how she tasted.


	9. Chapter 9

**Seven Pointed Star**

Chapter 9

**Disclaimer**: All characters, locations, and scenarios are the legal and intellectual property of the one who first created them. Therefore, Hogwarts, Harry Potter, Trelawney's prophecies, the war with Voldemort, and all other characters, locations, and scenarios from the Harry Potter series are the sole property of J. K. Rowling, with all rights and ownership as have been legally determined by her or those with the legal authority to act in her name. In other words, I don't own it.

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"Another changeling returned to natural form? How odd."

Dumbledore's eyes were sparkling as he surveyed the two sidhe standing before him. This told Seif three things. One, Dumbledore found the whole situation highly amusing, and so wouldn't do anything to sort things out unless he had to. Two, he knew something, and it was probably something Seif wanted to know, and he most definitely was not going to tell. Three, the old man was planning something. It wasn't good planning, either. It was bad planning, the type of planning that would almost certainly end in an uncomfortable situation for someone other than the mad genius—probably Seif.

"Xanthe, of the Seleighe Court," the sidhe woman said smoothly, nodding diffidently to Dumbledore. "I was one of Queen Elle's personal attendants. I was also—covertly—Seif's lover."

"Circles within circles," the old wizard chuckled. "A Seleighe maid and Queen Mab's son."

"I believe her majesty knew and approved. After all, her plan will make it possible for Seif and I to be together."

"Oh? What plan is that?"

Xanthe raised a dainty eyebrow curiously. "Plan? Queen Mab has many plans. It is, after all, in the nature of the Unseleighe to work from the shadows."

Dumbledore laughed to himself. "Well, Miss Xanthe, what of the real Miss Lovegood?" he asked, ignoring her refusal to explain Queen Mab's plan.

Xanthe smiled softly. "It was two years after Seif left to begin his time as a mortal child," she began quietly, her voice spinning as the story turned straw to gold. "The Lovegoods had a small girl named Luna, who was just one year old and whom they loved very, very much. More, perhaps, than they would otherwise have, for Daphne could have no more children."

"_Are you certain?" Daphne Lovegood asked, her brow creased with worry._

_Healer Nelson nodded. Her usual smile was gone and wisps of her toffee colored hair had escaped from her bun to fall around her face. "There's nothing we can do. Your daughter's sickness is like nothing we've come across before. It might even be a fluke, something that will never crop up again. If we had more time we might be able to cure it, but there's just not time. Luna will be dead in under two months."_

_Taurin suddenly felt a strong need to sit down, and almost fell on the floor when he fumbled around behind himself and missed the chair. "Under two months?" he finally asked, his voice cracked. "Are you sure?"_

_The Healer nodded again. "Take her home. Enjoy the time you'll have with her."_

_Daphne and Taurin were both in tears as they took their little Luna home, knowing they would soon loose her. As the weeks passed Daphne's grief did not lessen, but she came to a point where it was not all consuming. Then she remembered a treasure of her house, a gift handed down from mother to daughter, a boon that had been granted long ago, one that was rarely used because of the danger involved._

_From a locked silver chest inside her jewelry box, Daphne removed a polished moonstone disk half the size of the palm of her hand. Holding it in her hands, she closed her eyes and said a single word._

"_Gael."_

_The fairie appeared, as promised. He was beautiful, tall and strong, with marble skin and silver hair and eyes. His teeth were sharp, nearly fangs, as Daphne saw when he smiled. He had a long slender tail as silver as his hair and eyes, and silver tufts sprouted from the end of his long pointed ears._

_Daphne adverted her gaze quickly as he looked at her, and Gael laughed. "Ah, good to see that the ladies I gifted are still as bright as they are beautiful. You have a favor to ask me? No one bothers to call unless they have a favor to ask."_

"_It's my daughter," she said quickly. "She's dying, she only has a little over a month left. Can you save her?"_

"_Can I save her?" Gael mused, and Daphne almost looked up and caught herself in his silver gaze. "Is this her?" he asked, looking at the babe sleeping in the crib. "Such a pretty child. She'll grow up as well as you have. Yes, I can save her. But why would I want to?"_

_Daphne looked up in shock, narrowly escaping his stare. "Please—I'll do anything, just save Luna."_

"_Luna? A good name for such a fair child. Anything, you say?" He was amused, and Daphne hoped that was a good sign. "If no price is too high for the life of your daughter, then perhaps we can make a deal."_

"_There's nothing I won't do to save her."_

"_Well, then. We might just be able to work something out. You see, there's this Seleighe wench who is pining for her love. Xanthe, her name is. A beauty, I must admit. The boy is here, a changeling himself. I'll take your daughter away, heal her, and put Xanthe in her place. If Xanthe should meet her love and they should fall in love again, Xanthe will be restored to her true form when he kisses her, and your daughter will be returned. If not, Xanthe will live out her days as a mortal and Luna will remain in the Unseleighe Court forever."_

"_A gamble, then, on love?"_

"_Yes, of course. Luna will live, and she might even get to come home. No price is to great," he reminded her._

_Daphne sat frozen in her place for a long moment, then nodded. "Is that all?"_

"_There is one more thing," Gael said as he took Luna in his arms and Xanthe stepped from where she'd been waiting out of sight. Slipping over to Daphne he kissed her possessively and whispered in her ear, "You're mine. I'll come for you later, when the girl's well settled."_

"In the morning I was in Luna's place and Daphne had forgotten the bargain she'd made with Gael. Gael remembered, and six years ago he returned, gave Daphne back her memory of the deal, and took her."

"So Daphne Lovegood belongs to Gael, but Luna is due to be returned. Where is she?"

"Luna is right here," an amused voice said as several figures appeared to Dumbledore's left. "Returned to her place, as promised." the predominately silver Unseleighe said, bowing mockingly to Seif and tossing the girl forward by her wrist.

Luna Lovegood stumbled but remained upright, standing straight when she had her feet fully under her again. She had long pale hair and large light blue eyes, her facial structure similar to that of the face Xanthe had worn, but that was where the similarities ended. For one thing, she was plain, without anything to distinguish her from a group of similarly colored girls. Shorter, her thin frame bordering on anorexic, she was someone who was obviously more used to working in the shadows than behaving as an individual.

"One live girl. I'll keep the mother; there was nothing about returning her in the terms of the contract. As for these three," he added with a dismissive wave to a trio of sidhe women behind him, "Queen Mab herself insisted they come with me and remain here to serve her son." He bowed scornfully again and was gone.

Seif turned his attention to the three women dressed in matching gowns of silver spider silk with a tiny dark crystal caught at their throats on a band of glimmering silver.

The first was short and willowy, her fiery curls falling in a wild tumble around her shoulders. Two sets of slender rust brown horns arched from her hairline, the outer pair shorter than the inner, ending in delicately dangerous points. Her eyes were also red, fiery despite the darkness in their hearts. Alabaster fingers ended in claws, and a pair of leathery red-brown wings sprouted from her shoulders and were folded close against her back. Curtsying playfully, she named herself. "Myghr."

"Vreyn," said the next woman, whose straight silver-green hair and seafoam eyes reminded Seif strongly of the merpeople he had seen two years before despite the fact that the merpeople's hair had been dark green and their eyes yellow. Her skin was also tinted faintly green and the fingers of the hand she waved teasingly were webbed with small pointed talons on the ends that looked as though they were for gripping wet rock. She was smiling mischievously, her posture that of barely contained energy.

"Jinx," the last Unseleighe woman supplied, tossing a mane of crimped black hair, her icy blue eyes sparkling. Whip slim, at first glance she appeared perfectly human. Only as Seif watched her did the differences become obvious. There was a subtle pattern to her marble skin that suggested that it was covered in scales, and though her teeth looked normal Seif was sure that they were as sharp as those of any other Unseleighe. And, of course, there was the power in her gaze to capture a mortal, and the not-light evident deep within them. Seif remembered, faintly, that all sidhe were dangerous, the Unseleighe more so than the Seleighe, but Jinx seemed somehow more dangerous than the other two women.

"We're to help you remember the Court," Vreyn told him, winking. Seif caught a brief flash of her in the water, her hair billowing around her as she swam easily through the tide. He blinked, and she nodded slightly. "Seeing as you are the Crown Prince," she continued, "you have simply to ask to receive." She gave him a sly, sideways glance, her eyes traveling down his frame, and Seif blushed. Was she really implying . . . not that Seif would take her up on it if she was.

"If I think of anything, I'll let you know," he said carefully. He could feel the back of his neck burning, and it didn't help anything that Luna giggled at his obvious discomfort.

"Well, Miss Lovegood, perhaps we should get you Sorted and placed in classes. As for the three Unseleighe ladies, I'll have lodging prepared for you."

"Near Seif," Jinx said crisply, those chips of ice gazing levelly at Dumbledore.

"As near the Prince as I can manage, but you must understand that guests are not allowed to room in the Gryffindor Tower. Only those who have been Sorted into Gryffindor."

"Then make it so," said the sidhe brusquely. "You are the Headmaster here, are you not?"

"I am, but that does not give me all power. The school is the true mistress, after all," Dumbledore told her, his eyes twinkling and his tone patient. "There are laws that cannot be broken, even by the Head of the school—and the Sorting is one of them. The students—only the students—are Sorted into their Houses by the Sorting Hat."

"Prince Seif, Prince Fisk, and Xanthe are all Sorted."

"They are all students here until either I or they decide otherwise. The three of you are guests, and shall be treated as such. I will make sure that Seif knows where to find you. Now, Miss Lovegood."

Luna stepped forward, taking the Sorting Hat from Dumbledore and placing it over her head. Before it obscured her eyes, Seif caught a glimmer of intelligence in them. It was disturbing in a way he couldn't put a finger on; all he was sure of was that Luna's plain appearance was in place purely as a defense. The Hat took a very long time to decide what House to place her in, well over ten minutes passing before it pronounced her quite definitely, "Slytherin."


	10. Chapter 10

**Seven Pointed Star**

Chapter 10

**Disclaimer**: All characters, locations, and scenarios are the legal and intellectual property of the one who first created them. Therefore, Hogwarts, Harry Potter, Trelawney's prophecies, the war with Voldemort, and all other characters, locations, and scenarios from the Harry Potter series are the sole property of J. K. Rowling, with all rights and ownership as have been legally determined by her or those with the legal authority to act in her name. In other words, I don't own it.

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Having three Unseleighe in the castle with nothing to do was nothing short of catastrophic.

Oh, it had been all right for the first few days, but they had quickly grown bored and started playing tricks on students and teachers alike. Even that hadn't been too bad—until Myghr, the most blatantly mischievous of the three, met Peeves.

"A little poltergeist?" she crooned, her voice taunting Peeves as she held him with a touch of her magic. "How very odd to find one here. How very amusing. Does the little poltergeist like to cause mischief? But he can't compete with me!" She had flipped over backwards with a flit of her wings and raced away, giggling madly. She was out of sight before the makeshift binding spell dissipated and Peeves was freed. Rising to the challenge, Peeves's pranks grew more frequent. Myghr, Jinx, and Vreyn grew more malicious in response, and in the two days that followed Seif was certain that someone would be seriously injured.

Then Myghr discovered the Potions dungeon and forgot about playing pranks entirely. It had been just over a week since the women had arrived, and as Seif began his potion Myghr flowed into the room. She glanced curiously at Seif, but when he refused to look up at her she shrugged and scanned the rest of the room. She showed not so much as a flicker of interest until her eyes came to rest of Professor Snape. Mischief flaring in her fiery eyes, Myghr slipped up behind Snape, looking over his shoulder at the essay he was grading. "Wrong, wrong, all of it wrong," she teased in her best sing-song voice, her mouth inches from Snape's ear.

Snape jumped straight up in the air and spun around, in the sudden movement almost hitting Myghr. The fairie danced out of the way and settled right in front of Snape, looking up at him through her dark lashes.

"So you're the little Potions Master the crackéd headmaster likes to keep," taunted Myghr, turning her head first to one side, then the other, before lifting herself on her toes to kiss him full on the lips. Snape froze for several long moments while what was happening sunk in enough for him to jerk away. Myghr laughed. "So very tense! Ah, but you taste of magic and smell of Kelle; I sense a glamour about you."

"I am trying to hold a class, Miss Myghr," Snape growled, clearly shaken. "Professor Dumbledore has asked you not to interfere with the running of the school, and that is exactly what you are doing."

Myghr chuckled deep in her throat, patting his cheek in a very familiar fashion. "The students have their work to do, they have no more need of you," she chanted. "I know who and what you are. I've heard the Queen's daughter speak of a boy, a child she bore for a mortal man, a child who she named Sers." Snape shook his head slowly, but Seif could see the mask he held during classes crumbling, Sers starting to come out. "I know who you are, son of Kelle, half sidhe of the Unseleighe Court, child of a mortal man. I see the glamour cast on you, but I think that it was a mistake for Kelle to cast it. To leave you here might have been wise if you were not such as you are. You are sidhe at heart, you are, for Unseleighe blood flows in your veins to wash away the mortal touch."

"How—what—" Sers was backing from her steadily as Myghr advanced on him. Soon he hit the desk, and the Unseleighe woman smirked up at him.

"What face hides beneath the vizard, what form beneath the guise?" She placed a hand on either side of his waist, kissed him again, and was gone.

Sers dropped heavily into his chair, trying in vain to pull the fragments of his Snape mask back together. It took him a moment to notice that the entire class was staring at him. "What are you looking at?" he snapped. "Get back to work!"

"Can you believe what she did?"

"Can you believe he let her?"

"I think he liked it."

"Didn't you see the look on his face? He had no idea what was going on. I bet he'd never been kissed before."

"Half fairie!"

Seif dropped his face into his hands, massaging his temples. Myghr's performance during Potions that afternoon was all over the castle by dinner, and he was thoroughly sick of it. It didn't help anything that all three of the sidhe women ate with him, one on either side and one directly across from him. Jinx was across from him tonight, between Fisk and Hermione, and she kept throwing amused glances at the deliberately impervious Myghr.

"Is something wrong?" Vreyn asked too mildly as she picked at her meal. She was a finicky eater, but she didn't seem to need much and never complained about the food.

Sighing in frustration, Seif pushed himself away from the table and stood up. "I'm going to head back to the common room."

Jinx chortled. "You seem to have lost your sense of humor entirely. A pity."

Seif arched a dark eyebrow at Jinx. "Not entirely. I find it very funny that you spend so much time looking at anything but Fisk."

Jinx recovered quickly. "There's nothing humorous about that. He is Seleighe, unimportant."

Seif smiled, fangs flashing in the candle light. "I think otherwise. You are not merely ignoring him; you are avoiding his gaze as a mortal might avoid yours. Are you afraid you'll get caught? Or are you afraid that one day you'll see the light in his eyes and won't mind that it isn't darkness?"

Jinx surged out of her seat, icy eyes flashing furiously. As quickly as her temper rose, she dropped her gaze. "His highness may suggest what he wishes." Her hands were still clenched hard enough that the scales on her knuckles were rising slightly.

"I can, can't I? Because if you laid a hand on me, Mother would have something to say about it. So would I, for that matter." He stared into the top of her hair for a moment and she looked up reluctantly. "As for Fisk, no one here particularly cares to differentiate between Seleighe and Unseleighe." Smirking, he turned and strode out of the hall.

"That wasn't strictly necessary."

Seif smiled and slid an arm around Xanthe, pulling her slender hourglass figure close to him. "I think it was. If Fisk doesn't choose an Unseleighe woman to marry, then this whole charade has been in vain. Sixteen years I could have spent with you will be wasted. We'll still have to hide. Besides, she would have laughed in my face if I hadn't been throwing the truth in hers."

Xanthe sighed softly enough that Seif didn't hear it at all, but only felt it. "True, but still harsh. Jinx and Fisk! That is not something I would have seen coming." She paused for a moment, her head tipped slightly to the side. "I'm not sure Fisk did, either."

Seif laughed. "He very well might not have!"

They walked on with no particular destination in mind, chatting amiably until Xanthe stopped and placed a hand on Seif's arm, raising her finger to her lips to call for silence. She peeked around the corner in front of them. After a moment she motioned for him to join her at her vantage point.

Down the hall, tucked halfway into the shadows, stood Neville and Luna. Neville had both of Luna's hands in his and was talking rapidly, too low for the sidhe to hear. Seif stepped back, laying a hand on Xanthe's shoulder so that she stepped back again.

"You said he was in love," Seif whispered.

Xanthe nodded. "Apparently he fell in love with Luna while they were both in the Unseleighe Court."

Seif smiled, and they turned to take a different hall. Whether or not Luna returned Neville's feelings, neither fairie wanted to disturb them.


	11. Chapter 11

**Seven Pointed Star**

Chapter 11

**Disclaimer**: All characters, locations, and scenarios are the legal and intellectual property of the one who first created them. Therefore, Hogwarts, Harry Potter, Trelawney's prophecies, the war with Voldemort, and all other characters, locations, and scenarios from the Harry Potter series are the sole property of J. K. Rowling, with all rights and ownership as have been legally determined by her or those with the legal authority to act in her name. In other words, I don't own it.

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Myghr turned up for Potions at irregular intervals, and it soon became commonplace for her to slip in and tease Sers several times a week. Sers tried to ignore her, but Myghr wouldn't leave until she'd gotten enough of a rise out of him. This combination made for an interesting diversion and meal time conversation frequently featured discussion of the latest episode in Potions. Two weeks after Myghr's first appearance in class, the sixth year Gryffindors and Slytherins were brewing a particularly difficult potion, and so they didn't look up as the door opened.

_. . . stir counterclockwise rapidly for thirty seconds, totaling sixty strokes . . . _

"Frankly, I don't see what Myghr finds so amusing."

Several people jumped at the clipped tones of Jinx's voice and a cauldron in the corner crackled menacingly. As Seamus swore and vanished his Perfect Mirror Serum so that he could start over, Seif glanced up from his work at the cold sidhe. She was standing in front of Snape's desk, staring down her nose at the seated Potions Master as he scribbled away on the parchment before him. Snape didn't answer her; the practice he got with Myghr seemed to make it easy to ignore Jinx. Seif would have liked to watch and see what the usually cool-tempered fairie was up to, but Perfect Mirror Serum required more attention than doing so would allow. Seif turned his attention back to his cauldron, letting those whose curiosity overcame their desire to prevent Snape from snapping at them watch the events unfold.

_. . . add one sprig of mistletoe with three leaflets and a small cluster of berries to the top center of the potion. Do not stir. Reduce heat and let simmer until golden sparks rise—_

CRACK!

The sound was half snap and half the menacing crack of a whip, all with the quality of a mirror shattering. Seif had just placed his mistletoe, but others weren't so lucky. The noise was answered by several small explosions and a large one from Hermione's cauldron caused by the Gryffindor girl dropping the rowan twig she was supposed to wave over the potion onto her mistletoe sprig. Seif reduced the heat on his potion before something disastrous could happen, and as the ruined potions were hurriedly cleared away the Unseleighe Prince looked around for the cause of the sudden noise. It took him several moments to see the frog sitting on a stool because it was behind its table.

Once he was sure he was not needed to prevent further damage and the students who had been injured had been packed off to the Hospital Wing, Sers turned to the frog and a very pleased Jinx. Sighing, the half sidhe picked up the frog. "Was that strictly necessary?"

"Yes," Jinx said simply. "That boy is insolent, rude, and generally insufferable."

Sers lips twitched slightly as though he was attempting to keep himself from smiling. "Still, we don't Transfigure students in this school. Perhaps I should have a word with Mr. Malfoy, seeing as this is the second time he has been Transfigured despite that." He shook his head, giving the frog in his hands a rueful look. "If you would be so kind as to turn him back . . . ?"

"Turn him back?" Jinx asked, shocked. "You don't just turn people back once you've turned them into a frog. Not even the Seleighe do that, and they occasionally lift a curse if the one under it proves worthy. People turned into frogs have to be cured to regain their natural shape."

"Indeed."

"Sir?"

"Yes, Miss Brown, what do you want?"

"Isn't the standard cure true love's first kiss?"

Jinx laughed. "That, child, will break any curse. No power can stand against true love. I'd have to be more irritated than I was to cast a spell that could only be broken by _that_ on—Malfoy, is it?"

"Yes, Draco Malfoy."

Jinx nodded. "Especially since not everyone has a true love come around. No, he can be cured more simply than that."

"How?"

"You don't tell anyone but the enchanted," Jinx told Sers, lifting an eyebrow. "Certainly you knew that." She paused, considering. "At least the caster doesn't. Myghr and Vreyn might give you their guesses at what I would do. And I wouldn't suggest using any Wizarding spells, since they tend to make ours stick. Then you would have to hope that Draco's true love comes around. And that he has one."

"Myghr, I don't care if he deserved it, he is one of my students! It is my responsibility to get him back to normal."

The fiery Unseleighe woman gave the Potions Master a feral smile. "As I said, he deserved it. It will be fixed in its time, and there is no reason to hurry it."

Sers took a step towards Myghr, his black eyes burning. "Vreyn said that she does not know Jinx very well, but you do. Draco Malfoy is my responsibility, and I will do whatever I must to see that he is returned to his proper state as soon as possible."

Looking up at the half-sidhe through her thick lashes, Myghr considered his words, ignoring the fact that the step toward her he had taken had all but pinned her between his body and the wall of the narrow and poorly lit corridor. Without warning her hands shot up and seized his hair; she pulled his mouth down to hers and set about kissing him passionately, pressing her slender form into his body.

Without a class looking on, without his careful mask to provide protection, Sers found himself responding. His hands braced on the wall behind her, one on either side of her hips, he trapped her body in truth between himself and the wall, kissing her hungrily. His thin, pale lips moved on her full blood-colored ones, and then he deepened the kiss, one arm snaking around Myghr's waist and the other hand going to the back of her head, crushing her slight frame against his slender body.

They pulled apart at last, gasping for air, Myghr leaning limply against Sers as he leaned into her, using the wall for support. It was several moments before either had enough air to speak, and then it was Myghr who did, her voice still breathless.

"It seems that you have some fire in you after all," she murmured against his chest, a pleasant heat in her voice despite the fact that she was barely able to keep from gasping for air.

Sers didn't answer for a moment, instead enjoying the feel of her in his arms, the smell of her as he stood with his face buried in her fiery curls. "Perhaps I do," he sighed against her hair. "Still, any fire in me must and will remain in shadows."

Myghr laughed huskily, looking up so that their faces were almost touching. "I can wait. I planted the seed only two weeks ago, and already it has sprouted. In your very soul you want me to be yours, to be something that no other can have . . . and I want to be possessed by you. Now that you have had a taste, you will be back for more until you finally take it all, until at last you let yourself cross the threshold and become mine." She smiled, the expression as smoky as the look in her fiery eyes, then turned away.

Disentangling herself from Sers's arms, Myghr started down the hall. Just before she disappeared into the prevailing darkness of the corridor, she turned back. "Jinx favors kisses as cures, though the right one must be found to give the kiss. Perhaps if he was seeing someone . . .." she trailed off, shrugged, and was gone.

Sers stared after her, his nose still full of the scent of her, remembering how she felt against him, how her body fit just right, how her ruby lips gave under his, how her mouth tasted. It took a while for his mind to latch onto what she'd said just before vanishing.

"Miss Parkinson, are you still seeing Mr. Malfoy?"

Pansy raised an eyebrow slightly at the question. "I thought you disapproved of butting into our social lives, sir."

Snape nodded. "When it is simply your social lives, I do. However, it is possible that the curse on Mr. Malfoy will be lifted by a kiss from one who he is romantically involved with."

"Ah." Pansy fidgeted, eyeing the frog sitting in a cage on the corner of the Head of Slytherin's desk. "Well. It won't have to be public, will it? Because . . . you see . . . not even the other Slytherins know this, sir."

Snape arched an eyebrow. "Indeed." He laced his fingers together, laying his hands on the desk between the two of them. "You know that I will never divulge the secrets of one of my students without dire necessity, Miss Parkinson. This will be no different."

"I'm just a cover," she said quickly, color flooding her face. "You see, at first I was for appearances—we both knew that, even if neither of us said anything about it—and then . . . well, he started seeing someone, really seeing someone, just after this year started. With things as they are . . . well . . . we talked about it, and it seemed like the best course of action would be to keep things the way they've been since our fourth year. He doesn't want anyone to know."

"Yes, Miss Parkinson?"

"You see . . . " she swallowed, closed her eyes, and then opened them again. "It's Zacharias Smith."

The words came out in a rush that left Snape speechless for several long moments. He knew Lucius well enough that he never would have entertained the possibility of the one breaking the spell on his son would be male. Lucius was a horrible bigot; he was against everyone and everything except for pureblooded men marrying pureblooded women and the pureblooded lines they produced. Small lines of no more than three children. The aim was, after all, to produce a healthy male heir. Armed with that knowledge and a healthy dislike for the man, Snape found himself wanting to run to Azkaban with the soul purpose of laughing in Lucius Malfoy's cold, pale, sneering face.

"I see," Snape said softly. "You may go; I will send for Mr. Smith."

Snape looked up as the door opened and stared at Myghr as she flowed into his office. She was beautiful, her fiery curls falling about bare shoulders, her silver gown replaced with a deep red one that was cut low, exposing a generous expanse of pale bosom.

His cheeks heating, Sers jerked his eyes up to meet Myghr's all too amused gaze. "Miss—ah—Myghr. I wasn't expecting you."

Myghr gave a low, heated laugh. "Of course you weren't expecting me. I didn't tell you I was coming." She glided across the floor, sitting on his desk and placing a taloned hand on his pale cheek. Sers jerked away as though burned, and Myghr laughed. "Still jumping at my touch, are you? And here I thought I'd cured you of that." She leaned forward, bringing her face near his and causing her breasts to be in danger of falling out the top of her dress.

Sers's face flared again, and he forced himself to look at nothing but her fiery eyes. "I'm expecting a student in a few moments—"

"Yes, I know," Myghr said impatiently, sitting up with a huff and crossing her arms under her chest. Not that it helped; for one, it put her impressive bust at eye level and her crossed arms only served to emphasize it. For another, she crossed her knees as she did so and was kicking her foot impetuously; the motion ran her foot lightly along his thigh. "Zacharias Smith, who is utterly and completely terrified of what he imagines is to come. Detention and loss of House points are the least of his expectations; he's trying to remember what he might have done. I came to give you a message from Jinx."

"I hadn't noticed past the seduction attempts." Myghr arched an eyebrow alluringly as Sers snapped his big mouth shut. The bit of sarcasm that has slipped out of his mouth was not what he'd meant to say, and somehow he felt that the woman on his desk would make him pay for the slip in a way that he'd enjoy all too much if he forgot to feel awkward and embarrassed.

Sure enough, Myghr slithered off his desk and slid into his lap. He gaped, and Myghr arranged herself sensuously on his ridged form. "You, little Sers, are too innocent to be allowed," she said with a smirk once she'd positioned herself to her liking. Her hip and one of her firm breasts were pressed against his chest and stomach, her legs curled over his thigh so that the balls of her bare feet rested on the back of his calf, her slender arms wrapped familiarly around his shoulders. "I can show you seduction attempts. The most mild would scare you away; the more intense would have you in my bed so fast that you wouldn't know which way was up." She smiled, brushing her lips against his stiff ones momentarily before resting her forehead against his, hiding both their faces in a cavern of her hair. "Whatever goals I do or do not have are no concern of yours, but believe me, I am trying to do nothing so simple as seduce you."

There was a strangled yell of disgust from the door, and Snape surged to his feet, dumping Myghr unceremoniously on the floor. She squeaked as she fell, then rose languorously and brushed off her precariously clinging gown as the Potions Master glared at the blond boy standing in his office doorway.

"I'm sorry, sir, but the door was opened a little—"

"Five points from Hufflepuff!" Snape snapped furiously. "And if I hear one word—a single word!—of this, I will take a hundred. In the future, you will knock before entering, even if the door is not completely shut." Turning his glare on Myghr, he bared his teeth in a nasty look that might have been supposed to be a sneer. "As for you, deliver the message you were sent with and get out! From now on you will stay out of my classes and away from me otherwise, or I will speak to Dumbledore about getting you removed from the castle!"

Myghr's hands froze in the act of gracefully brushing some invisible particle of dust from her skirt, her back stiffening as she raised her eyes in a furious glare that had no effect on the half sidhe. "Jinx said that it won't work," she hissed angrily. "She said why, as well, but why should I share that information with a stiff, prudish, naïve, unsophisticated, and pretentious wizard such as yourself who so obviously knows all there is to know of the situation!" She turned to stalk in the direction of the opened door, but Snape caught her by the wrist in a painful grip. "Let go of me!"

"Tell me all of what Jinx said," Snape said in a low voice, too calm for someone who had just recently lost his temper.

Myghr glared, but Snape met her gaze with one of his own. After several strained minutes, Myghr's crimson lips pulled back in a snarl. "He must be humiliated," she growled through gritted teeth. "The kiss must be done in public, at the place and time the curse was performed. Loosely so; during the same class period will suffice. Now let go of me!"

Sers's lips curled into a sneer. "What's this? A full sidhe—one of Queen Mab's personal attendants—and you can't get away from a mere half blood when you wish it?"

Myghr growled, the noise in her throat wholly animalistic. When Sers didn't release her she grew oddly sulky. "You are the grandchild of Queen Mab," she tried to hiss, but her anger was lost in sullen discomfiture. "I said before that Kelle was wrong to leave you here, disguised as a mortal child. She did not bind your power; only those too weak to live as fae are culled so. You are nearly as powerful as Her Majesty and her heir, and would never have been named a cull." She stood stiffly, almost pouting, only just preventing it through an exercise of sheer willpower. "If you will release me, I will go now."

Sers held Myghr's gaze for a moment, then nodded once and released her wrist slowly. The Unseleighe woman dipped into a slight curtsy, then flowed from the room. With Myghr gone, Snape turned his attention to the terrified Hufflepuff boy.

"I understand that you have been seeing Draco Malfoy for most of the school year. Take a seat, boy, and listen carefully. I'm only going to say this once."


	12. Chapter 12

**Seven Pointed Star**

Chapter 12

**Disclaimer**: All characters, locations, and scenarios are the legal and intellectual property of the one who first created them. Therefore, Hogwarts, Harry Potter, Trelawney's prophecies, the war with Voldemort, and all other characters, locations, and scenarios from the Harry Potter series are the sole property of J. K. Rowling, with all rights and ownership as have been legally determined by her or those with the legal authority to act in her name. In other words, I don't own it.

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the long wait between chapters! I really enjoy this story, and am deffinately going to keep writing it. I just had problems. Nasty depression type problems. I let myself grow lathargic, and have a lack of progress on any of my writing and an extra ten pounds to show for it. As soon as I untangle my problems with chapter 13 I'll post it, and hopefully chapter 14 will follow soon thereafter. The main plot needs to get rolling!

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Potions seemed almost unnaturally quiet at the sudden cessation of Myghr's visits, and remained so until the Thursday after Jinx had turned Draco into a frog. For some reason, Zacharias Smith was sitting dejectedly in Draco's normal seat with Draco-the-frog before him on the table. Professor Snape effected not to notice the fifth year in his sixth year class and gave directions like he normally did. The sixth years stopped throwing curious looks at Zacharias for the most part, concentrating on finishing the Perfect Mirror Serum that had been brewing for the last week or writing detailed essays on its uses and waiting for Monday when they would do the same if Jinx's antics had ruined their potion too close to the bell to start over.

As Seif turned down his heat for a final thirty minutes of simmering, several of the girls gave loud gasps. Every head in the room jerked up just in time to see Zacharias pull away from Frog Malfoy and a blinding light envelop the frog. A moment later it cleared, and there sat the arrogant Slytherin. Only he wasn't smirking, sneering, or attempting to look in any way superior. In fact, he looked highly embarrassed and generally as though he wished that he could sink out of view or even turn back into a frog. Anything, so long as he didn't have to face a Hogwarts that knew of his once secret romance with Zacharias Smith. The sniggers of his classmates only increased his discomfort and that of the younger blond.

"Settle down and get back to work," Snape directed harshly, black eyes flashing menacingly. "I will not have gossip made of this episode to encourage childish behavior from the three guests at Hogwarts. Misses Myghr, Vreyn, and Jinx cause enough trouble without any encouragement. You have been warned."

"I really don't see what's the big deal is," he said with a shrug. "So Draco and Zacharias are seeing each other. So what?"

Harry's tone was bored and his half-closed eyed were trained on Ginny. The Weasley girl—who he called by her full name, Ginevra, instead of the shortened form—was behind the gaggle of giggling third and fourth years who were spouting gossip in an attempt to interest him. She looked distinctly amused, though her mirth was more at Harry's reaction than at the younger girls. Before any of the obnoxious girls could respond to Harry's comments, however, someone behind Harry caught their eyes. Their jaws went slack, their eyes glazed, and one or two even started drooling. Even before the deep, silvery voice sounded from behind the boy on the couch he knew who had come up behind him.

"Why don't you girls run along? I want to talk to Harry and Ginny for a minute." The girls glazed faces broke into grins at the sound of Seif's voice, giggles running through the gaggle as they scurried off eagerly. Seif vaulted the back of the sofa to sit beside Harry, giving Ginny and unconscious smile as he settled himself. "How have you two been doing?"

"Fine, Seif. What about you?"

Seif shrugged, his shoulders rising and falling in a sensuous motion. "As well as can be expected. I've found myself getting bored recently a lot more easily than I used to, but Xanthe seems to think that's a good sign on the memory front."

"Is inane chatter also supposed to be a good sign on the memory front?"

"Harry! I never have figured out what you have against Seif, but you can at least be civil to him! He is my friend, after all."

"Sorry, Ginevra," Harry said mildly, his bland face belying the apology.

"So what did you want to talk to us about?"

Seif grinned, running a hand through his hair. "Mostly to Harry, but I haven't seen you in a while. Neville and Fisk, too, and Ron and Hermione I suppose. Really it's Harry and Neville and Fisk that are important."

"Seif? Are you babbling?"

Harry snorted. "Chattering, Ginevra. It's called chattering. Unseleighe chatter and Seleighe gossip, though none of them will admit it."

Seif laughed, shaking his head. "Whatever you say, Harry. Anyway, there's something important we've been ignoring for the last six months."

"Let me guess. Voldemort and the prophecy."

"Harry!"

"Sorry, Ginevra."

"He's right, though," Ginny said, standing and obviously intent on leaving them to talk about their inevitable future. "Who's supposed to defeat him? Then there's the big question—how can he be defeated?"

Harry shrugged. "Nobody ever bothered to figure that out, now did they?"

Seif shrugged. "No one here seems to have a clue; and the sidhe promised to train you, not find the answers for you. I should just forget about Voldemort and leave the two of you to deal with him, but I can't do that after having it be my responsibility for so long. My destiny. I was the one he marked as his equal, after all. The mark is gone now, but it was me that was marked."

"He marked you, but you weren't born as the seventh month died," Harry said quietly, suddenly oddly subdued. Seif recognized his posture all too well as that of someone who was feeling the full weight of his destiny on his shoulders.

"I wasn't," Seif said softly. "That's probably the reason that I'm _not_ marked, now that I'm myself again. The prophecy wasn't supposed to have anything to do with me. The only reason that Fisk and I are even here is that Mother and Aunt Elle decided to meddle. The actions they took changed the outcome of all our destinies."

"Destiny . . . " Harry closed his eyes, a small smile playing on his lips. "I have been trained all my life to meet her, and now that I have come so close, I find that the training may have kept me from her as surely as my human blood bars me from ever truly being a member of the fairie courts." His eyes tightened in grief, his smile one of bliss, the contradictory emotions speaking volumes before he opened his mouth again. "The Seleighe Court is white and shining, as brilliant as the sidhe who live there. One would think it is the more beautiful of the two, and perhaps it is more pure. Even the shining palace of Queen Elle cannot compare to the dark hall of her sister."

"The ceilings in the throne room are vaulted, slightly, but for the most part the rooms and corridors are proportioned like those of any common house," Seif breathed, his brilliant eyes drifting closed. "Even where they are made of common materials, though, the dim lights and dark woods and stone lend a feeling of mystery. Every room is thrown into night and bathed in shadow, and the most common things gleam when you look too long or pass them by to quickly. Even the most lowly Changeling has a touch of the mystic clinging to them. Nothing, not even the blatant beauty of my aunt's palace can compare with the subtle, haunting beauty of my mother's realm."

"Nothing compares with the Unseleighe Court."

"_CRUCIO!"_

_A pale man with lank black hair fell to the ground screaming, writhing in pain. As he was tortured, he worked his mind feverishly, holding his mental barriers in place. If they were to slip, and the Dark Lord enter his mind, it would be disaster not only for himself, but for the four boys who he had been protecting through his failure to pass on information about them. The Dark Lord was actively attempting to enter his mind, however, so he had to make it appear open. It had to be open and yet so focused on the pain that he could not have given away a secret had he wanted to. At the same time, he had to appear willing to do anything to stop the pain._

_He'd done this before. It was a last resort, for when he was focused on the pain like this he could not fight it. In cases like these, cases where the secret the Dark Lord wanted access to was all-important, the pain of his torture was his friend, his only aide in keeping his secrets to himself. Focusing on the pain, however, would only drive him mad faster if the Dark Lord kept torturing him until he found the information he sought. Then the information would be safe, but he would spend the rest of his days in St. Mungo's._

_Assuming the Dark Lord didn't kill him when he became useless._

_Finally the wand—and the pain—was lifted from him._

"_I'm disappointed in you, Severus. You waited under Dumbledore's wing for thirteen years before I returned—did you perhaps grow to have sympathies for the old fool and those he claims as his own."_

"_Never, my Lord," the pale man croaked, his voice broken from his screams. His black eyes were locked onto the Dark Lord's scarlet ones, willing the other man—if he could still be called a man—to see the truth in his lie, willing his skill at Occulmency to protect him and his information once more. "I am loyal, my Lord!"_

"_These events transpired at the end of October," the Dark Lord sneered. "What could possibly cause a loyal Death Eater to hide such information from me for more than six months?"_

"_I have been endeavoring to gain Prince Seif's trust. The boy is too powerful to be allowed to think to often or too hard on how to defeat you. He is Queen Mab's son and heir! Time is unimportant to the sidhe. These six months were necessary to have something to report past their existence."_

"_And what would you report that is worth hiding for six months the fact that I have never faced Harry Potter, but that he and Neville Longbottom were replaced by fairie children shortly after their births?"_

"_I have earned Seif's trust, my Lord. I have some level of control over the boy. Not complete, but enough to make suggestions that would lead him to destruction. Through the boy, I also have some control over his friends, including Fisk, Neville Longbottom, and the real Harry Potter."_

_As the Dark Lord smiled, the scene faded into shadow._

In the Gryffindor sixth year boys' dorm, Seif stirred restlessly and woke. Like all his true dreams, both memories and those from his connection to Voldemort, it was already fading. One thought stuck firmly in his mind, however; Sers, while safe for the moment, was going to be in trouble if things didn't get into action soon. By pointing out the unimportance of time to the sidhe, he had gained them some time. Still, they would have to begin planing in truth the destruction of Lord Voldemort.


	13. Chapter 13

**Seven Pointed Star**

Chapter 13

**Disclaimer**: All characters, locations, and scenarios are the legal and intellectual property of the one who first created them. Therefore, Hogwarts, Harry Potter, Trelawney's prophecies, the war with Voldemort, and all other characters, locations, and scenarios from the Harry Potter series are the sole property of J. K. Rowling, with all rights and ownership as have been legally determined by her or those with the legal authority to act in her name. In other words, I don't own it.

**Author's Note:** Well, the last chapter only had one event of any seeming importance, though believe me, there's a bit more in there that will become important later on. Subtlety might not be my strong suit, but when the importance of some blatantly obvious bits can be hidden, I do it. And then there's this chapter. So hard to write, morose fae. I know it's been about a year since I was really posting this regularly . . . but I've had my own problems with melancholy to deal with.

* * *

Seif was oddly subdued in Potions on Monday morning, his demeanor darkened. He worked in silence unless he was forced to speak, and then he answered as succinctly as was possible. It was almost as though the boy was feeling guilty about something, and somehow 'Seif' and 'feeling guilty' seemed as though they should not be in the same sentence without a very emphatic _not_ between them. Snape was obviously worried about the Unselieghe Prince, which made everyone else distinctly nervous. It made them even more nervous when Snape didn't take points off for the small explosion Fisk caused, which in turn caused more small explosions, none of which Snape apparently noticed. In fact, Snape was so distracted by Seif's state of mind that he didn't even notice when the door opened and a diminutive woman slipped inside. 

"When the fire burns so bright, when your eyes are lost in night, when your notice can't be torn, then you always know there's more."

Snape whirled on Myghr, staring down at the petite sidhe sternly. "I thought I had made it clear that you were not to intrude on my classes."

The little woman glanced at the students nervously eyeing their professor. Raising an eyebrow slightly, she turned her fiery eyes to the half-sidhe's dark ones. "They get nothing done anyway. Your attentions are too firmly on your prince today for them to be comfortable enough to work away."

Reluctantly turning to examine his class, the Potions Master saw signs of relief on his students' faces when his eyes touched them. That oddity alone was enough to show the truth of Myghr's words; the fact the Seif didn't seem to notice any of the happenings in the room around him only served to spike Sers's worry. When Myghr placed a slender white hand on his arm, Sers literally jumped.

Strangely, Myghr did not giggle, but rather looked decidedly sympathetic. "Have the children go away; you are in no state to teach today."

Sers gave her an irritated glare. "Stop rhyming."

Myghr gave the half fae an odd look before settling herself on his desk. In a position not formulated to make him uncomfortable for once; that alone was enough to make Sers already frayed nerves grow tauter. "Let them go, Sers; you do neither them nor yourself any good by forcing them to remain."

For a moment the Potions Master hesitated, his anxiety clear on his face, and then he nodded nearly imperceptibly. Attempting to ignore the Unselieghe maid's alarming lack of obvious mischief, he turned to his students. "Clean up and get out of here." The words were more than half sneer, but old habits were hard to break and this was something he had no intention of changing. Not until after Voldemort was defeated at least. He watched the students, clearly relieved and not at all afraid to show it, clean up their half hearted and wholly ruined "attempts" at the day's potion, pack up their belongings, and file out of the class. Granger had the nerve to shoot him a worried look over her armload of books as she left, but the girl always had possessed nearly as much daring as she had brains. At least she had after Potter and Weasley had gotten their hands on her.

Shaking his head as though to clear it, Sers pushed away the viperish thoughts that filled his head. It had been a long while since he had allowed himself to be anything other than Sers except on the surface; that the old poisonous feelings he had held onto while being Severus Snape had come so much to the surface was an indication of how much Seif's mood had affected him. And the boy was still there, having missed the dismissal entirely, staring moodily into a nearly empty cauldron.

"Prince Seif?"

The boy—not a boy in truth, but centuries older than even the ancient Headmaster of Hogwarts—jerked, his eyes meeting the Potions Master's. For a long moment the heir to the Unselieghe throne stared into those black eyes, his own emerald orbs unreadable but filled with a raging darkness that was too dark to be called by such a pale name. Then a sudden curiosity took him, as though the morning's melancholy had never happened. "It's different. More like shadows than . . ." he trailed off, glancing over at Myghr. "But no matter. There are matters that must be dealt with, and this is not one of them. It is no true difference."

"What are you on about?" Sers growled, giving the lad a very Snape-like glare. Other than his morose mood for most of the morning, it seemed that Seif was becoming a little _too_ fae. He seemed to have picked up their rather annoying habit of babbling on and leaping from subject to subject and expecting you to both follow and understand their train of thought.

"It is no true difference," Seif repeated, his eyes twinkling in a way that was disturbingly reminiscent of Dumbledore. "Perhaps I should just leave you to Myghr, if you're going to insist on asking foolish questions. I'm sure she can make you forget to be foolish quickly enough. It would be good for you, too—make you forget to be painfully uptight all the time."

Myghr smiled at that, but then returned to her unusually solemn self. Sers eyed her warily; she was plotting something; that was the only possible explanation for her behavior. But her eyes were on Seif, and there was no reading her. She was fae, after all . . . Sers felt a distinct mistrust of his mother's people for a moment before shoving it down. "I will try not to be so uptight, my prince," he said stiffly, giving the boy a slight, jerky bow.

"Not doing a very good job of it, are you?" Seif laughed, reaching out to shove Myghr into the young Potions Master. Sers pulled away from her, and the Unselieghe prince chuckled. "See? Not relaxed at all! You're stiff even for a human!"

Sers bared his teeth slightly, and Seif chuckled, turning his attention to Myghr. "Go away, go away; I have much to do today!"

Myghr giggled, swooping in to plant a swift kiss on Sers's lips, then curtsied to her prince and glided out of the room. With that distraction gone, Seif turned his attention back to the Potions Master.

"You were tortured last night."

Sers blinked, surprised for a moment, then went rigid again. "I have been tortured by that bastard more times than I care to remember."

Shaking his head, the royal Unselieghe tapped the slightly taller man on the end of his overlarge nose. "I have been ignoring my duties. Just because I'm not Harry Potter doesn't mean I'm not still the Boy-Who-Can't-Seem-to-Die."

"You have no real responsibility to the humans," Sers said gruffly, pulling back from Seif's finger like a startled cat. "You are the Crown Prince of the Unselieghe."

"And the Boy-Who-Lived," Seif insisted. "Really, I'd think that you'd be eager to be rid of that bastard. Voldemort is a threat to the humans, both Wizards and Muggles, true—but no one seems to realize that the moment he has this world, he'll be looking for more power. Really, Sers, it's just a matter of time before he does become my problem, even if he technically isn't now."

"I take it you mean to take action? Do you have any idea how?"

Sadly, Seif shook his head. "Not really. I mean, there's the prophecy—but who is the one with the power to vanquish Voldemort? I was the one marked, but he's not my equal, and I wasn't born as the seventh month dies. I was centuries old by the time Trelawney spoke the prophecy."

"I know, Prince Seif . . . but I cannot tell you the answer."

"And why must it just be one? Couldn't more than one defeat Voldemort so much more easily? A group, a powerful number . . . "

Sers shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "Surely you can't be thinking seven. Where will you find seven strong enough to face Voldemort, with the nerve to do so?"

"Seven, yes. But which seven is another matter entirely . . . and what are the seven to do? A circle, a seven pointed star . . . yes, that is it. We shall be a seven pointed star . . . "

"You're speaking of sidhe magic."

Seif shrugged. "Perhaps, perhaps. The seven will come in time. Voldemort will be defeated."

Though Sers was silent, he couldn't help but hope . . . it seemed that the Unselieghe Prince had taken objection to Voldemort's presence in the world, and he meant to do something about it.


	14. Chapter 14

**Seven Pointed Star**

Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** All characters, locations, and scenarios from the Harry Potter series are the sole property of J. K. Rowling, with all rights and ownership as have been legally determined by her or those with the authority to act in her name.

**Author's Note:** It feels so good to be writing again! Thank you to all of you who have ever reviewed this story—and those who took long enough to get past the incredibly mediocre beginning to the point where I got the feel of the story. Maybe I'll eventually rewrite that, but I rarely do such things. And I have read Tithe, as it turns out—after I began writing Seven Pointed Star and completed and published the first twelve chapters.

* * *

A giggle sounded, a trilling tone that echoed across the castle grounds. The cheerful laughter was echoed by a deeper chuckle, as rich if not richer, and the students enjoying the beautiful spring day sighed. Xanthe and Seif were unaware of the stir they were causing as they tumbled towards the Whomping Willow, and their playful tussling was only ceased at the exasperated sigh of one of the others gathered on the grass near the vengeful tree.

"If I wanted to watch you two rolling about than I would have you in the same class," Sers sneered, thoroughly annoyed at being dragged away from his potions for no apparent reason.

With another giggle, Xanthe settled herself, primly brushing grass from her pale spidersilk. Even after that there was a great deal of debris sticking to the gown and peering out of her gilded hair. "I'm sure Prince Seif has his reasons for asking us all here," she said smoothly, for all the world as though she had not just been wrestling on the lawn with her lover.

"Indeed," the Unselieghe Lord murmured, having removed the lawn from himself much more successfully than his Selieghe lady. "And that reason is Voldemort."

"That again?"

"This so-called Dark Lord is no concern of ours!"

"You need not worry yourself with such things, my prince."

Seif held up a hand to silence his three attendants. "On the contrary, Voldemort is most definitely our problem. Not only is the prophecy referring to his defeat voided because of the actions of our peoples, but I know him as well as any. He will not be content with just one world. He will keep searching, keep fighting, keep conquering, until he is finally vanquished. And the closest world to this one is ours. He must be stopped here, and he must be stopped now."

For a moment there was silence, and Seif observed those gathered around him. Hermione, looking scared but determined. Ron, his arm around her as though to protect her—when had those two started seeing each other?—his face a stoic mask. Neville nodding to himself, gazing at Luna as she hid in her hair across the rough circle from him. Harry solid and stoic, his lack of expression making Ron's look like a cheap mask. Ginny at his side, patting his knee soothingly, her eyes on the grass, her face troubled. Fisk looking grim, one hand tucked into Jinx's, the Unselieghe woman stunned. Vreyn looking thoughtful. Myghr a touch wary, nestled against a Sers whose face was a mix of hatred, annoyance, and some things that Seif couldn't quite place, things that he'd never seen in his teacher's face before. And Xanthe, his lovely Xanthe, smiling at him supportively, her hands clasped on her lap, trust shining from her brilliant eyes.

She was counting on him. She believed in him. That was why he could not let himself fail. He could not fail her.

"Do you have any idea how to do it?" Hermione's eyes were trained on Seif, her gaze intense.

Once that gaze would have made him squirm, but it had nothing on his mother's. The prince just smiled, nodding. "Some idea, yes. I do not know exactly, but I know where to begin."

She nodded, full of trust for her old friend. Why did so many trust him, heir to the Unselieghe throne? They weren't even scared to meet his eye. "I'm in."

"I'm always there for you, mate," Ron said a moment later, his voice gruff.

Ginny straightened, her gaze fiery. "Count me in."

"We are yours to command," Veryn said softly, and all three of his attendants dipped into sitting curtsies before settling themselves once more.

"I'm looking forward to that ignoramus's fall," Sers sneered. "You won't be able to get rid of me."

Xanthe leaned in to kiss Seif passionately. "Always my love."

"I will help as I can," Fisk said softly. "I agree that Voldemort must be dealt with before he becomes more of a threat, and it is in the best interest for the peace of our people—for we are one people, not two—for us to cooperate in this effort."

Neville and Harry shared a glance, and then Neville spoke. "We've been training for this all our lives. We're both in."

There was silence for a long moment, and then Luna looked up, her pale hair falling away from her face. "This Voldemort—he kills for the sake of killing, enjoys causing pain, seeks to posses others—correct?"

"That's right, Luna," Seif confirmed, gazing curiously at the girl who would never quite meet his eye.

Her gaze firmed, and a resolve showed in her unlike any that Seif had seen before. Neville was staring at her in shock, and even oh-so-stoic Harry was looking perturbed. Slowly, Luna Lovegood raised her eyes slowly from Seif's chin, up his nose, and met his eyes.

"I will do all that is in my power to assist in the permanent and unquestionable defeat of the one called Voldemort."

The heat in her eyes and voice startled the Crown Prince of the Unselieghe as much as her willingness to meet his eyes. Anger, hate, and pain warred with fear in those enormous pools, and Seif nearly shivered as he wondered what she had been through during her time in the Unselieghe Court and under Gael's control. It almost seemed as though she would be the most valuable asset there was in the fight against the Dark Lord.

Shaking himself slightly, Seif turned his attention back to those gathered in the shadow of the Whomping Willow. "I'm glad you all are willing, for the battle will be long and hard, and it will take some times before we take it to Voldemort. In the final stand, we will need seven. But before those seven are chosen, we must know how those seven are to stand."

"With honor," a silken voice said, a bare murmur; it took a moment for Seif to locate the source. "With truth," Sers continued, his voice a whisper on the wind. "With power. It must not just be defeat. It must be justice."

"Turn what he has done back against him," Hermione murmured, her brow furrowing thoughtfully. "Ritually bare him to the world, to himself, and punish him for his actions."

"For the end, ritual," Luna agreed, and Seif stared at her, his curiosity obvious in every fiber of his being. "But there will be much preparation before hand, especially if we intend to be a jury of sorts."

"The world's judges," Fisk murmured. "Or at least standing for them."

Jinx eyed Fisk, shaking her head softly, then spoke. "A high ambition, to judge him with the full authority of this world behind you."

"A high ambition, perhaps, but Voldemort must be judged," Xanthe said smoothly, as still as a statue as she locked her gaze on the Unselieghe woman. "Something must be done."

"Yes, something must be done, but what shall we do?"

There was silence for a moment after Sers's sharp question. What should they do? What could they do?

"We'll do our best," Ginny said finally. "And then, if that is not enough, we'll try again. I like the idea of judgment, though—if we can find something with that to defeat him . . . "

Hermione nodded. "Lots of research—we might even have to create spells and potions to use to make the final ritual work."

"Well, then, let's get that started." Seif sighed, reaching up to rub the base of his pert little horns. "Research. We have to do something that's never been done before—defeat Voldemort once and for all."

After a moment's silence, Harry stood, turning to walk silently back towards the castle. Ginny gaped after him for a moment, then hurried to join her boyfriend. Seif nodded, and the others slowly wandered off, alone or in pairs, until only the prince and his lover were left with Sers facing them and an uncertain Myghr hovering a few feet away.

"Yes, Sers?"

The Potions Master observed the young man before him before speaking, choosing his words carefully. "This sudden interest . . . actively looking for a way to defeat the Dark Lord . . . does this have anything to do with last week?"

Seif tilted his head to the side, one arm around Xanthe, his eyes locked on his sister's son. He could vaguely remember Kelle, remember her speaking of her son almost wistfully . . . "Why? It makes no real difference one way or the other."

Shaking his head ruefully, Sers stood. "I see. Thank you." With that he stood and swept off towards the castle, Myghr fluttering after him like a spark seeking charcoal. A moment later the golden laughter of the lovers sounded once more, echoing across the lake.


End file.
